Rae Gee's Blog, page 16
November 3, 2013
Things That Go Bump In The Night - Part 4
Here's the final part of the Things That Go Bump In The Night series. I recorded this one as a video because, well, it really did freak me out. Enjoy... ;)
You can find Parts 1 - 3 here.
You can find Parts 1 - 3 here.
October 20, 2013
Things That Go Bump In The Night - Part 3
Part 3 of some of the distinctly odd things which have happened in my life...
Call it being psychic, call it being in tune with the universe, call it being spiritually sensitive, call it a sixth sense. Whatever you call it, not even the most powerful of anti-psychotic drugs have stopped me from seeing and feeling things. They've always been there, just on the edge of my vision, or tickling the lobes of my ears. What do I think they are? Beings from other dimensions? Good and evil? Things which are locked to this earth? I don't know and I refuse to try and categorise them. You can identify most of the things you see in the sky. Aircraft, balloon, Chinese lantern. But there are some things which you can't. Things which have the tag UFO applied to them. There's been several incidents which have seen me using this tag. There's possibly been more, but these ones stick in my mind. Summer 2004. I was standing on New Canal in Salisbury. It was a clear, beautiful day, much like the images on the Google map. I can't remember where I was walking to but I remember looking up. And there, hanging in the sky, was a cylinder. One of the things you have to understand about Wiltshire is that you see a lot of aircraft. A lot. It's a military area (which may have accounted for some of the distinctly odd things we did see) and is also on the flight paths to a lot of the major airports. But this. This didn't look like a plane. There was no tail, no wings, no markings and it was just hanging there, moving only slightly faster than the breeze. Heart hammering, I crossed the road and began to follow it. I managed to keep it in my line of sight for a good several minutes. Then I had to look down to cross the road.
When I looked back up, it was gone. Vanished. I had a wide expanse of sky and could clearly see in the direction it was travelling. At the speed it was going, there was no way it could have disappeared so quickly. But it was gone.
I looked around, searching the sky. But there was absolutely no sign of it.
Spring 2011. Leicester. I was standing in the back garden of my parents house. Again, it was a nice, warm day. There were wisps of cloud dancing through the blue sky. And there, amid it all was a silver ball.
In comparison to the clouds, it was fairly high. Again, it just hung there. Except that this time it looked like it was tumbling. Over and over and over. Yet its position never changed. It didn't up or down or in any other direction. Just hung there and tumbled.
I must have watched it for a good fifteen minutes before the clouds swept in front of it. When they parted, guess what? Yep, it was gone.
Both times I tried to get photos. Both times there was nothing of any description on them. Nothing I could see or analyse. Did I imagine what I saw? Who knows...
Do you have any UFO stories? Feel free to share them in the comments. Or go to the contact link and send me an email. ~~~ Things That Go Bump In The Night Part 1 - GhostsThings That Go Bump In The Night Part 2 - Shadow People
Call it being psychic, call it being in tune with the universe, call it being spiritually sensitive, call it a sixth sense. Whatever you call it, not even the most powerful of anti-psychotic drugs have stopped me from seeing and feeling things. They've always been there, just on the edge of my vision, or tickling the lobes of my ears. What do I think they are? Beings from other dimensions? Good and evil? Things which are locked to this earth? I don't know and I refuse to try and categorise them. You can identify most of the things you see in the sky. Aircraft, balloon, Chinese lantern. But there are some things which you can't. Things which have the tag UFO applied to them. There's been several incidents which have seen me using this tag. There's possibly been more, but these ones stick in my mind. Summer 2004. I was standing on New Canal in Salisbury. It was a clear, beautiful day, much like the images on the Google map. I can't remember where I was walking to but I remember looking up. And there, hanging in the sky, was a cylinder. One of the things you have to understand about Wiltshire is that you see a lot of aircraft. A lot. It's a military area (which may have accounted for some of the distinctly odd things we did see) and is also on the flight paths to a lot of the major airports. But this. This didn't look like a plane. There was no tail, no wings, no markings and it was just hanging there, moving only slightly faster than the breeze. Heart hammering, I crossed the road and began to follow it. I managed to keep it in my line of sight for a good several minutes. Then I had to look down to cross the road.
When I looked back up, it was gone. Vanished. I had a wide expanse of sky and could clearly see in the direction it was travelling. At the speed it was going, there was no way it could have disappeared so quickly. But it was gone.
I looked around, searching the sky. But there was absolutely no sign of it.
Spring 2011. Leicester. I was standing in the back garden of my parents house. Again, it was a nice, warm day. There were wisps of cloud dancing through the blue sky. And there, amid it all was a silver ball.
In comparison to the clouds, it was fairly high. Again, it just hung there. Except that this time it looked like it was tumbling. Over and over and over. Yet its position never changed. It didn't up or down or in any other direction. Just hung there and tumbled.
I must have watched it for a good fifteen minutes before the clouds swept in front of it. When they parted, guess what? Yep, it was gone.
Both times I tried to get photos. Both times there was nothing of any description on them. Nothing I could see or analyse. Did I imagine what I saw? Who knows...
Do you have any UFO stories? Feel free to share them in the comments. Or go to the contact link and send me an email. ~~~ Things That Go Bump In The Night Part 1 - GhostsThings That Go Bump In The Night Part 2 - Shadow People
October 12, 2013
Inspirational Interview - Serena of Rock Radio Sexism
A few months ago, I discovered Tumblr and, on there, I've had the privilege of meeting some wonderful people. People who've expanded my horizons and who I've been able to learn from. A couple of weeks ago, I asked the lovely Serena to answer a few questions. Here's what she had to say:
~~~
Hi! Thank you so much for stopping by! Firstly, please introduce yourself and tell us a little about you.
My name is Serena. I’ve been a feminist for about two years, now - although I’ve dabbled in feminism a bit longer. I really like hard rock and heavy metal, and I also like pink and pastel-coloured stuff. And, no, it’s not contradictory to like the two. I’m also into psychedelic art.
You run a couple of awesome feminist blogs. For those not entirely in the know, what is and isn’t feminism?
Thank you!
Feminism is about advocating gender equality. We have, indeed, gone a long ways towards achieving gender equality since, say, the fifties. However, we still have further yet to go. Rape culture is still a major issue that affects women today, along with slut shaming. There is still a double standard that men can sleep with multiple women, and be considered a “stud” - whilst women who do the same are regarded as “sluts”. Then there is the whole reinforcement of gender roles through advertisements and marketing - which of sort of my, uh, pet feminist issue.
Feminism is not about hating men, or following a bunch of rules of shoulds and should-nots. Especially since we already get enough of that shit from the patriarchy. If women want to shave, cool. If women don’t want to shave, that’s also cool. The one thing to take into consideration, though - is that women who choose to shave should probably examine why they choose to do so. Are they doing it because, uh, they really like the feel of smooth hairless skin - or is it simply because they were taught that it’s what women “are supposed to do”?
There seems to be a lot of anti-pink and anti-feminine thought patterns within feminism. Why do you think this is?
Oh, yeah, this is a good question. In fact, this is one of the reasons why I was initially leery of associating myself with the feminist movement. Certainly, I’ve always agreed with the dictionary definition of feminism - which is that women should have the same rights as men do. However, I didn’t see why that meant I couldn’t like pink - or other things coded “feminine”.
I think a lot of the anti-pink and anti-femininity attitudes that permeate certain factions of the feminist movement is due to the resentment that there is the social expectation that women are supposed to like pink and other things coded “feminine”. That is, of course, very understandable. In fact, I sort of feel that way about pop music. I resent that pop music is heavily marketed to girls and men, while rock and metal are often seen as “dude music”. So, certainly, I understand rebelling against something that is forced on you.
However, the problem comes from when they start having the attitude of this: “I don’t like pink - and other women shouldn’t like pink, either.” Some women like pink. Some women don’t. Both are fine. Also, very few women are 100% “girly-girl” or 100% “tomboy”. In fact, I’d say that most women are some combination of the two.
Then there is also the fact that gender roles also hurt boys and men. Boys who happen to like pink are often discouraged from acting upon it, lest they get teased for it. Some portions of the feminists, I believe, are so focused on for girls and women are affected by gender roles - they often fail to consider the other side of the issue.
I wouldn’t say that this is “sexism against men”, really. This is more a case of “femmephobia”, a devaluing of things considered “women”. There is a large subset of men, often referred to as “dudebros”, who are all about being “manly”. To them, the “alpha male” is the ideal. As such, they recoil at the idea of anything considered “feminine”. This is the other issue I have with faction of feminists that also decry anything considered “feminine”. Granted, they’re coming at it from a different angle from that of the dudebros - but the end result is the same, and that is problematic.
As feminists, we must be mindful not to advocate replacing a system that favours men with a system that favours masculinity.
One of your blogs looks at sexism within rock music, something which is particularly close to my heart. Why do you think there are these attitudes towards women? And why, in the 21st century, do these attitudes still prevail? What do you think can be done to change the mindsets of some of those within the music industry?
A think a lot of it has to do with the fact that rock music is often seen as being aggressive, a trait that is commonly associated with men. When rock and roll first got its start in the 50s, it was popular with both boys and girls. It wasn’t until sometime during the ’60s that there was a move towards rock music being “music for men”. The term “cock rock” is often used to refer to the early hardish rock that was marketed towards men. The Rolling Stones, I believe, are the progenitors of “cock rock”.
I’m not sure why those attitudes continue to persist into the 21st Century. I believe that there are more women than one might suspect that do like rock music. But maybe the main reason why there aren’t too many that listen to rock radio is because a lot of rock radio stations that cater strictly towards men. As a result, the disc jockeys and other people who work in the radio business feel that they have a licence to make sexist and misogynistic jokes. A lot of times, when they have contests, they are geared towards heterosexual men.
Maybe it’s a chicken-and-egg scenario. A lot of women are turned off of rock music due to the sexism and misogyny permeating it, or else they’ve just been conditioned to believe that rock music is not for women. So, in turn, the music industry believes that women simply aren’t interested in rock music - and, therefore, they see no reason to remove the sexist and misogynistic elements from rock music.
As for how we can change it, that’s kind of a tough question to answer. Maybe, if we can get enough interested women to band together, we can show those people that there are women who like rock music. Maybe what we need is something similar to riot grrrl, but not just for punk rock. For pretty much every subgenre of rock and metal. I would love for there to be a female version of Disturbed, or a female version of Avenged Sevenfold.
Despite the negative attitudes towards women featured in rock music, scores of women still support these people and find them attractive. Why do you think that is?
Well, I think because they just happen to like the style of music. Also, there is the other side of it that our patriarchal society has the attitude that rock music is “not for women”. Indeed, this is a bit of a paradoxical situation. This is what I’ve referred to, a few times, as the “feminist dilemma”. As such, a lot of women who happen to really like rock music will still listen to it - despite the sexism and misogyny - because, dammit, women can like rock music too!
Do you think it’s still possible to support these bands despite their attitudes?
Oh, certainly! In fact, if we gave up everything that is problematic, then there’d be next to nothing left to enjoy. We can still enjoy the music, but not excuse the bands when engage in problematic behaviour. Of course, if other people choose not to listen to certain bands due to their sexism and misogyny - we should respect that. But it’s not our place to police what other people should or should not listen to.
One of the things which comes up a lot is that women have to look good to get anywhere in life. Are there any female fronted/all female bands which you recommend? And what can women do to empower themselves within the entertainment industries?
Right now, Halestorm is quite successful on active rock radio stations. Kitty is a great band, too - and then there’s Cherri Bomb. I probably don’t listen to female-fronted or all-female bands as much as I should - partly because I am sort of addicted to the radio. I think it’d be nice to have a radio station, even if exclusive to the internet or satellite that mixes the stuff that you hear on active rock stations with a bunch of female-fronted and all-female bands. There are some online stations that are focused exclusively on female rock bands - but what if you don’t want to give up on the male rock bands that you like, as well?
If you could change one thing about the world, what would it be?
I would remove everything having to do with power imbalance, as well as useless social norms.
Which of your blogs do you recommend?
Definitely Rock Radio Sexism. Initially, I started the blog with the intent to discuss the issues of sexism and misogyny regarding rock radio. But, even if you don’t listen to the radio, I’d still recommend it. We have since broadened the focus to include the rock/metal scene as a whole.
Thank you so much for taking the time to pass by and talk with us. It’s really appreciated!
You’re very welcome. It’s my pleasure.
~~~
Hi! Thank you so much for stopping by! Firstly, please introduce yourself and tell us a little about you.
My name is Serena. I’ve been a feminist for about two years, now - although I’ve dabbled in feminism a bit longer. I really like hard rock and heavy metal, and I also like pink and pastel-coloured stuff. And, no, it’s not contradictory to like the two. I’m also into psychedelic art.
You run a couple of awesome feminist blogs. For those not entirely in the know, what is and isn’t feminism?
Thank you!
Feminism is about advocating gender equality. We have, indeed, gone a long ways towards achieving gender equality since, say, the fifties. However, we still have further yet to go. Rape culture is still a major issue that affects women today, along with slut shaming. There is still a double standard that men can sleep with multiple women, and be considered a “stud” - whilst women who do the same are regarded as “sluts”. Then there is the whole reinforcement of gender roles through advertisements and marketing - which of sort of my, uh, pet feminist issue.
Feminism is not about hating men, or following a bunch of rules of shoulds and should-nots. Especially since we already get enough of that shit from the patriarchy. If women want to shave, cool. If women don’t want to shave, that’s also cool. The one thing to take into consideration, though - is that women who choose to shave should probably examine why they choose to do so. Are they doing it because, uh, they really like the feel of smooth hairless skin - or is it simply because they were taught that it’s what women “are supposed to do”?
There seems to be a lot of anti-pink and anti-feminine thought patterns within feminism. Why do you think this is?
Oh, yeah, this is a good question. In fact, this is one of the reasons why I was initially leery of associating myself with the feminist movement. Certainly, I’ve always agreed with the dictionary definition of feminism - which is that women should have the same rights as men do. However, I didn’t see why that meant I couldn’t like pink - or other things coded “feminine”.
I think a lot of the anti-pink and anti-femininity attitudes that permeate certain factions of the feminist movement is due to the resentment that there is the social expectation that women are supposed to like pink and other things coded “feminine”. That is, of course, very understandable. In fact, I sort of feel that way about pop music. I resent that pop music is heavily marketed to girls and men, while rock and metal are often seen as “dude music”. So, certainly, I understand rebelling against something that is forced on you.
However, the problem comes from when they start having the attitude of this: “I don’t like pink - and other women shouldn’t like pink, either.” Some women like pink. Some women don’t. Both are fine. Also, very few women are 100% “girly-girl” or 100% “tomboy”. In fact, I’d say that most women are some combination of the two.
Then there is also the fact that gender roles also hurt boys and men. Boys who happen to like pink are often discouraged from acting upon it, lest they get teased for it. Some portions of the feminists, I believe, are so focused on for girls and women are affected by gender roles - they often fail to consider the other side of the issue.
I wouldn’t say that this is “sexism against men”, really. This is more a case of “femmephobia”, a devaluing of things considered “women”. There is a large subset of men, often referred to as “dudebros”, who are all about being “manly”. To them, the “alpha male” is the ideal. As such, they recoil at the idea of anything considered “feminine”. This is the other issue I have with faction of feminists that also decry anything considered “feminine”. Granted, they’re coming at it from a different angle from that of the dudebros - but the end result is the same, and that is problematic.
As feminists, we must be mindful not to advocate replacing a system that favours men with a system that favours masculinity.
One of your blogs looks at sexism within rock music, something which is particularly close to my heart. Why do you think there are these attitudes towards women? And why, in the 21st century, do these attitudes still prevail? What do you think can be done to change the mindsets of some of those within the music industry?
A think a lot of it has to do with the fact that rock music is often seen as being aggressive, a trait that is commonly associated with men. When rock and roll first got its start in the 50s, it was popular with both boys and girls. It wasn’t until sometime during the ’60s that there was a move towards rock music being “music for men”. The term “cock rock” is often used to refer to the early hardish rock that was marketed towards men. The Rolling Stones, I believe, are the progenitors of “cock rock”.
I’m not sure why those attitudes continue to persist into the 21st Century. I believe that there are more women than one might suspect that do like rock music. But maybe the main reason why there aren’t too many that listen to rock radio is because a lot of rock radio stations that cater strictly towards men. As a result, the disc jockeys and other people who work in the radio business feel that they have a licence to make sexist and misogynistic jokes. A lot of times, when they have contests, they are geared towards heterosexual men.
Maybe it’s a chicken-and-egg scenario. A lot of women are turned off of rock music due to the sexism and misogyny permeating it, or else they’ve just been conditioned to believe that rock music is not for women. So, in turn, the music industry believes that women simply aren’t interested in rock music - and, therefore, they see no reason to remove the sexist and misogynistic elements from rock music.
As for how we can change it, that’s kind of a tough question to answer. Maybe, if we can get enough interested women to band together, we can show those people that there are women who like rock music. Maybe what we need is something similar to riot grrrl, but not just for punk rock. For pretty much every subgenre of rock and metal. I would love for there to be a female version of Disturbed, or a female version of Avenged Sevenfold.
Despite the negative attitudes towards women featured in rock music, scores of women still support these people and find them attractive. Why do you think that is?
Well, I think because they just happen to like the style of music. Also, there is the other side of it that our patriarchal society has the attitude that rock music is “not for women”. Indeed, this is a bit of a paradoxical situation. This is what I’ve referred to, a few times, as the “feminist dilemma”. As such, a lot of women who happen to really like rock music will still listen to it - despite the sexism and misogyny - because, dammit, women can like rock music too!
Do you think it’s still possible to support these bands despite their attitudes?
Oh, certainly! In fact, if we gave up everything that is problematic, then there’d be next to nothing left to enjoy. We can still enjoy the music, but not excuse the bands when engage in problematic behaviour. Of course, if other people choose not to listen to certain bands due to their sexism and misogyny - we should respect that. But it’s not our place to police what other people should or should not listen to.
One of the things which comes up a lot is that women have to look good to get anywhere in life. Are there any female fronted/all female bands which you recommend? And what can women do to empower themselves within the entertainment industries?
Right now, Halestorm is quite successful on active rock radio stations. Kitty is a great band, too - and then there’s Cherri Bomb. I probably don’t listen to female-fronted or all-female bands as much as I should - partly because I am sort of addicted to the radio. I think it’d be nice to have a radio station, even if exclusive to the internet or satellite that mixes the stuff that you hear on active rock stations with a bunch of female-fronted and all-female bands. There are some online stations that are focused exclusively on female rock bands - but what if you don’t want to give up on the male rock bands that you like, as well?
If you could change one thing about the world, what would it be?
I would remove everything having to do with power imbalance, as well as useless social norms.
Which of your blogs do you recommend?
Definitely Rock Radio Sexism. Initially, I started the blog with the intent to discuss the issues of sexism and misogyny regarding rock radio. But, even if you don’t listen to the radio, I’d still recommend it. We have since broadened the focus to include the rock/metal scene as a whole.
Thank you so much for taking the time to pass by and talk with us. It’s really appreciated!
You’re very welcome. It’s my pleasure.
October 7, 2013
Things That Go Bump In The Night - Part 2
Part 2 of some of the spooky things which have happened in my life...
Call it being psychic, call it being in tune with the universe, call it being spiritually sensitive, call it a sixth sense. Whatever you call it, not even the most powerful of anti-psychotic drugs have stopped me from seeing and feeling things. They've always been there, just on the edge of my vision, or tickling the lobes of my ears. What do I think they are? Beings from other dimensions? Good and evil? Things which are locked to this earth? I don't know and I refuse to try and categorise them.
This particular tale took place a couple of years ago. I'd approached someone we'll call Subject X to make a documentary on their life. Subject X's boss is not known for being a nice person. Sure, they've tried to clean up their act in recent years but the past has a habit of never forgetting you, especially when you're in the media spotlight.
Anyway, at the time, Subject X was a free agent. They weren't affiliated with anyone and were more than happy for me to camp out in their life for a month or two (or longer, depending on how much we had to talk about). We began going through the usual paperwork which comes with making a film when they got the call and went back to work for their old boss.
That was when the contact broke and, needless to say, I was devastated despite having a few more people on my list of potential interviewees. I sent a couple more emails, all of which were carbon copied to various other people who were involved with the film, namely my legal eagles. We got a reply which read distinctly oddly and one of the legal eagles called me up.
“Rae, Rae, Rae! DON'T reply to that email!”
“Why not?”
“That's not Subject X writing.”
My heart stopped. “It's the boss, isn't it?”
“Got it in one. Drop it, Rae, at least for now.”
So I did. But I felt a certain affinity Subject X. I do a lot of meditation and praying in my spare time. I feel that the world around is a dark and dangerous place and so meditate for protection for myself and my loved ones. Subject X also became a part of the protection, a white light which is cast around myself and anyone else I choose. I felt he needed it, especially with some of the people he was associating with.
Until a couple of years ago. It was a night much like tonight. Cold, with the promise of winter in the air. I was outside having a cigarette and staring at the clear, star filled sky. Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw a dark, shadowy figure run across the garden and straight through the wall of the house. While it made me jump, I thought nothing more of it. A spirit, or ghost, or something else moving from one spot to the other.
That was, until I went to bed. Turning off the lights, I went through the usual ritual of saying prayers and wrapping the white light around myself, my family, and my friends.
But I couldn't sleep. Couldn't settle.
The shadow which had run through the wall was there, standing in the corner of the room. I could feel unseen eyes staring at me. I said a quick banishing prayer and hoped for sleep.
The shadow figure continued to terrorise me. I was sick. I was lethargic. I couldn't write. I couldn't work. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. No matter what I did, it was there, silently pulling my life apart. Finally, at the end of my tether, I consulted a couple of friends. One of them asked me a few questions before falling silent.
“Do you get a familiar feeling from it?” they asked.
“Yep,” I tiredly replied.
“Where do you think it's from?”
“The States. California.”
“Good, because you're probably right. Any idea who it is?”
“Mmmhmmm.” I swayed and leaned against the wall, desperate for sleep. “The Boss.”
“Good. I suspect we're both on the right page for this one and that this is The Boss warning you to back off. He doesn't like the idea of you talking to Subject X.”
The friends went away to the respective homes and began working to get rid of the shadow figure. One instructed me to be ready on a particular night. I was to sit quietly and imagine myself and Subject X surrounded by white light and angels. The image which formed in my mind was amazing with huge, angels, as tall as buildings, surrounding us. All held swords, all were bathed in fire, ready to go in to battle. At the same time, somewhere else in the country, one of the friends, along with a group of other people, worked to get rid of the shadow figure. I was told that, should the figure ever return,
It worked and the figure left. I was able to sleep, eat, write, and get my life back together. It's been gone for a good 18 months now. Although it does like to make the occasional visit to make sure I'm keeping up my end of the deal and staying away. Now it doesn't take much to get rid of it again. A few seconds of meditation and it's gone, banished back to wherever it came from.
Things That Go Bump In The Night - Part 1
Call it being psychic, call it being in tune with the universe, call it being spiritually sensitive, call it a sixth sense. Whatever you call it, not even the most powerful of anti-psychotic drugs have stopped me from seeing and feeling things. They've always been there, just on the edge of my vision, or tickling the lobes of my ears. What do I think they are? Beings from other dimensions? Good and evil? Things which are locked to this earth? I don't know and I refuse to try and categorise them.
This particular tale took place a couple of years ago. I'd approached someone we'll call Subject X to make a documentary on their life. Subject X's boss is not known for being a nice person. Sure, they've tried to clean up their act in recent years but the past has a habit of never forgetting you, especially when you're in the media spotlight.
Anyway, at the time, Subject X was a free agent. They weren't affiliated with anyone and were more than happy for me to camp out in their life for a month or two (or longer, depending on how much we had to talk about). We began going through the usual paperwork which comes with making a film when they got the call and went back to work for their old boss.
That was when the contact broke and, needless to say, I was devastated despite having a few more people on my list of potential interviewees. I sent a couple more emails, all of which were carbon copied to various other people who were involved with the film, namely my legal eagles. We got a reply which read distinctly oddly and one of the legal eagles called me up.
“Rae, Rae, Rae! DON'T reply to that email!”
“Why not?”
“That's not Subject X writing.”
My heart stopped. “It's the boss, isn't it?”
“Got it in one. Drop it, Rae, at least for now.”
So I did. But I felt a certain affinity Subject X. I do a lot of meditation and praying in my spare time. I feel that the world around is a dark and dangerous place and so meditate for protection for myself and my loved ones. Subject X also became a part of the protection, a white light which is cast around myself and anyone else I choose. I felt he needed it, especially with some of the people he was associating with.
Until a couple of years ago. It was a night much like tonight. Cold, with the promise of winter in the air. I was outside having a cigarette and staring at the clear, star filled sky. Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw a dark, shadowy figure run across the garden and straight through the wall of the house. While it made me jump, I thought nothing more of it. A spirit, or ghost, or something else moving from one spot to the other.
That was, until I went to bed. Turning off the lights, I went through the usual ritual of saying prayers and wrapping the white light around myself, my family, and my friends.
But I couldn't sleep. Couldn't settle.
The shadow which had run through the wall was there, standing in the corner of the room. I could feel unseen eyes staring at me. I said a quick banishing prayer and hoped for sleep.
The shadow figure continued to terrorise me. I was sick. I was lethargic. I couldn't write. I couldn't work. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. No matter what I did, it was there, silently pulling my life apart. Finally, at the end of my tether, I consulted a couple of friends. One of them asked me a few questions before falling silent.
“Do you get a familiar feeling from it?” they asked.
“Yep,” I tiredly replied.
“Where do you think it's from?”
“The States. California.”
“Good, because you're probably right. Any idea who it is?”
“Mmmhmmm.” I swayed and leaned against the wall, desperate for sleep. “The Boss.”
“Good. I suspect we're both on the right page for this one and that this is The Boss warning you to back off. He doesn't like the idea of you talking to Subject X.”
The friends went away to the respective homes and began working to get rid of the shadow figure. One instructed me to be ready on a particular night. I was to sit quietly and imagine myself and Subject X surrounded by white light and angels. The image which formed in my mind was amazing with huge, angels, as tall as buildings, surrounding us. All held swords, all were bathed in fire, ready to go in to battle. At the same time, somewhere else in the country, one of the friends, along with a group of other people, worked to get rid of the shadow figure. I was told that, should the figure ever return,
It worked and the figure left. I was able to sleep, eat, write, and get my life back together. It's been gone for a good 18 months now. Although it does like to make the occasional visit to make sure I'm keeping up my end of the deal and staying away. Now it doesn't take much to get rid of it again. A few seconds of meditation and it's gone, banished back to wherever it came from.
Things That Go Bump In The Night - Part 1
October 5, 2013
A Letter To The Evil That Is The Twelve Tribes Cult
It takes a lot to get me as angry as I am right now. A Hell of a lot. But the reports which have been spread over the news the past week have been enough to get my blood boiling at you scum. I'm not even going to call you "people" or "humans". I wouldn't even call you "animals" because at least animals look after their young. You're scum. And even then, I think the scum which lines my toilet bowl might be offended at me calling you that.
You're all pure evil and you're all going to burn in Hell for what you've done to those children. I don't care what your website says. I don't care what those "letters" on your website say (they're pretty easy to forge. How do I know? I've worked in the film industry. I forged things for a living.). If you give us solid, absolute proof that you haven't beaten those children black and blue several times a day, then we'll back off.
But the authorities know. They know that you're as evil as the Devil himself. There's no way you're Christians. Again, how do I know? I'm a Christian and the "god" you worship is not the God I worship. "Love the little children"? You lot have absolutely no idea what love is. "An Act Against Love" as your headline says is exactly that. But it's an act against the good people of this world, not against you. Brainwashed, that's what you all are. Absolutely and utterly brainwashed. You should all be ashamed of yourselves and I hope the authorities acting makes you take long hard looks at yourselves. But you won't. Because you believe whatever's said to you. Utter and total sheep each and every one of you. We can tell you this until we're blue in the face but you won't believe it until you're standing at the gates of Hell. And it's where you deserve to be.
SOURCES:
Twelve Tribes 'child caning punishment' claims (BBC)
Twelve Tribes community: NSPCC demands police inquiry into Christian sect that canes children (Independent)
In Germany's Twelve Tribes sect, cameras catch ‘cold and systematic’ child-beating (Independent)
The Devon cult that canes tiny children to ‘cleanse their sins’ (Daily Mail)
You're all pure evil and you're all going to burn in Hell for what you've done to those children. I don't care what your website says. I don't care what those "letters" on your website say (they're pretty easy to forge. How do I know? I've worked in the film industry. I forged things for a living.). If you give us solid, absolute proof that you haven't beaten those children black and blue several times a day, then we'll back off.
But the authorities know. They know that you're as evil as the Devil himself. There's no way you're Christians. Again, how do I know? I'm a Christian and the "god" you worship is not the God I worship. "Love the little children"? You lot have absolutely no idea what love is. "An Act Against Love" as your headline says is exactly that. But it's an act against the good people of this world, not against you. Brainwashed, that's what you all are. Absolutely and utterly brainwashed. You should all be ashamed of yourselves and I hope the authorities acting makes you take long hard looks at yourselves. But you won't. Because you believe whatever's said to you. Utter and total sheep each and every one of you. We can tell you this until we're blue in the face but you won't believe it until you're standing at the gates of Hell. And it's where you deserve to be.
SOURCES:
Twelve Tribes 'child caning punishment' claims (BBC)
Twelve Tribes community: NSPCC demands police inquiry into Christian sect that canes children (Independent)
In Germany's Twelve Tribes sect, cameras catch ‘cold and systematic’ child-beating (Independent)
The Devon cult that canes tiny children to ‘cleanse their sins’ (Daily Mail)
September 29, 2013
Women Are Worth More Than The Paper They're Printed On
“World's Hottest Footballer's Wives.”
“World's Hottest F1 Driver's Wives.”
“World's Hottest Musician's Wives.”
They're mainstays of tabloid media. Pointless, redundant articles which spew the virtues of being nothing more than eye candy and masturbation material for a male orientated market. They're everywhere, and a day doesn't go by when one woman or another is put on a pedestal because she's married to someone famous.
“You're just jealous,” people say. “I don't know what you're getting upset over?”
Don't know what I'm getting upset over? Have you ever read one of those articles and seen any mention of the woman's life other than the fact that she's “beautiful” and “married to X celebrity”? Chances are you haven't. They never make a mention of that. Never mention the achievements of said woman. Instead the woman's form is just reduced down to that of an object. That's it. Nothing else. The article might mention if she's had a breast enlargement, or if she lost her post baby fat really quickly. You might get a mention that she's an actress or a model but you won't be given a list of her works. Again, that's it. And people wonder why the world is so screwed up. They wonder why there are girls who are literally starving themselves to death. They wonder why self esteem and self confidence are low. There are many reasons, a lot of it starting with the media.
“But you objectify men!” you say.
Yes, I'll hold my hands up and say that I'm guilty of that. But go and take a look at the lists titled “World's Hottest Actors” or “World's Hottest Rockstars”. You won't find a list of why their hair's nice or how they got their killer abs. No, you'll get a list of how well they act, which countries their band's toured, how many cinema seats they've filled or CD's they've sold. You'll probably get the name of their highest grossing film or best selling album. You might even get a glimpse of the car they drive, the house they live in, and how much their bank balance is worth.
“It's not offensive! I don't see your problem.”
While it's not outwardly offensive (no blood, no overly graphic content) it does the same nudity and murders and normalises people to it. Suddenly it's “normal” to want to be “hot” and “married”, as if it's the only thing which women are good for. Forget the 21st Century. Attitudes towards women are still firmly rooted in the past. Women are only supposed to be broodmares, used for nothing more than pleasure and bringing about the next generation. At least in the eyes of the male orientated media.
“You must really hate men!”
Actually, no. I just hate the misogynistic attitudes towards women. I've worked in many industries where, to be a woman is the worst crime ever. Bar manager, nightclub DJ, band manager. I've lost count of the number of men who've come up to me and told me they can do a better job. Really? Here, have the lack of sleep, the paperwork, the hours of phone calls, events being cancelled, staff being sick, equipment not working, merchandise being delayed, and the crappy pay. None of those jobs were ever done for the money. They were done for the love of music or creating amazing events. And, with each of those jobs, I was approached to do them. I didn't apply. I was asked to take the roles. Someone with tits and a vagina. What does that tell you? It's not the gender of a person but their ability to do a job. Unfortunately, as we all too often see, the gender of a person does still play a part in every day life.
“You hate women!”
<sigh> No, I don't hate women. I just hate that they're used and exploited for the pleasure of others. Some do do it for profit and pleasure and I take my hat off to women who are strong enough to do that. We need more strong, independent women in this world. More role models that the younger generations can look up to. Role models whose entire life doesn't revolve around being pretty and married.
Basically, I'm tired of a world where women are treated like second class citizens. I'm tired of being told I can't do certain things because they're “only for men” (playing any instrument other than a cello or piano, learning to fly, listening to heavy metal etc). I'm tired of people trying to pigeonhole me. Tired of people telling me how to live my life because I'm a woman. Women can do whatever they want to and they don't need approval from anyone to do it.
There's a lot of wonderful and loving men who read this blog and I don't want you to feel like this is aimed at you. It's not. I love you guys to bits and I hope you'll stick with me despite some of my rantings!
“World's Hottest F1 Driver's Wives.”
“World's Hottest Musician's Wives.”
They're mainstays of tabloid media. Pointless, redundant articles which spew the virtues of being nothing more than eye candy and masturbation material for a male orientated market. They're everywhere, and a day doesn't go by when one woman or another is put on a pedestal because she's married to someone famous.
“You're just jealous,” people say. “I don't know what you're getting upset over?”
Don't know what I'm getting upset over? Have you ever read one of those articles and seen any mention of the woman's life other than the fact that she's “beautiful” and “married to X celebrity”? Chances are you haven't. They never make a mention of that. Never mention the achievements of said woman. Instead the woman's form is just reduced down to that of an object. That's it. Nothing else. The article might mention if she's had a breast enlargement, or if she lost her post baby fat really quickly. You might get a mention that she's an actress or a model but you won't be given a list of her works. Again, that's it. And people wonder why the world is so screwed up. They wonder why there are girls who are literally starving themselves to death. They wonder why self esteem and self confidence are low. There are many reasons, a lot of it starting with the media.
“But you objectify men!” you say.
Yes, I'll hold my hands up and say that I'm guilty of that. But go and take a look at the lists titled “World's Hottest Actors” or “World's Hottest Rockstars”. You won't find a list of why their hair's nice or how they got their killer abs. No, you'll get a list of how well they act, which countries their band's toured, how many cinema seats they've filled or CD's they've sold. You'll probably get the name of their highest grossing film or best selling album. You might even get a glimpse of the car they drive, the house they live in, and how much their bank balance is worth.
“It's not offensive! I don't see your problem.”
While it's not outwardly offensive (no blood, no overly graphic content) it does the same nudity and murders and normalises people to it. Suddenly it's “normal” to want to be “hot” and “married”, as if it's the only thing which women are good for. Forget the 21st Century. Attitudes towards women are still firmly rooted in the past. Women are only supposed to be broodmares, used for nothing more than pleasure and bringing about the next generation. At least in the eyes of the male orientated media.
“You must really hate men!”
Actually, no. I just hate the misogynistic attitudes towards women. I've worked in many industries where, to be a woman is the worst crime ever. Bar manager, nightclub DJ, band manager. I've lost count of the number of men who've come up to me and told me they can do a better job. Really? Here, have the lack of sleep, the paperwork, the hours of phone calls, events being cancelled, staff being sick, equipment not working, merchandise being delayed, and the crappy pay. None of those jobs were ever done for the money. They were done for the love of music or creating amazing events. And, with each of those jobs, I was approached to do them. I didn't apply. I was asked to take the roles. Someone with tits and a vagina. What does that tell you? It's not the gender of a person but their ability to do a job. Unfortunately, as we all too often see, the gender of a person does still play a part in every day life.
“You hate women!”
<sigh> No, I don't hate women. I just hate that they're used and exploited for the pleasure of others. Some do do it for profit and pleasure and I take my hat off to women who are strong enough to do that. We need more strong, independent women in this world. More role models that the younger generations can look up to. Role models whose entire life doesn't revolve around being pretty and married.
Basically, I'm tired of a world where women are treated like second class citizens. I'm tired of being told I can't do certain things because they're “only for men” (playing any instrument other than a cello or piano, learning to fly, listening to heavy metal etc). I'm tired of people trying to pigeonhole me. Tired of people telling me how to live my life because I'm a woman. Women can do whatever they want to and they don't need approval from anyone to do it.
There's a lot of wonderful and loving men who read this blog and I don't want you to feel like this is aimed at you. It's not. I love you guys to bits and I hope you'll stick with me despite some of my rantings!
September 24, 2013
Things That Go Bump In The Night - Part 1
As the nights draw in and the air cools, our minds turn away from summer and towards other things. It's time, I think, for me to tell some of my spooky tales.
Call it being psychic, call it being in tune with the universe, call it being spiritually sensitive, call it a sixth sense. Whatever you call it, not even the most powerful of anti-psychotic drugs have stopped me from seeing and feeling things. They've always been there, just on the edge of my vision, or tickling the lobes of my ears. What do I think they are? Beings from other dimensions? Good and evil? Things which are locked to this earth? I don't know and I refuse to try and categorise them.
We'll start by taking a trip in to my own past. Once upon a time, I worked in a wonderful little pub, with a fabulous group of people (some of who may be reading this. Hi guys!), in a small, sleepy city in the south of England. We knew that everything wasn't as it seemed in this 600 year old building. And, from that building, came a handful of tales...
The Voice
This tended to happen when the bar was empty, early morning normal. I'd be cleaning up the bar area and I'd hear someone, as clear as day, yell my name. I'd go looking and yell into the kitchen to see if the chef had called me. Nope, wasn't him. At this point the hackles on my neck would be raised. It tended to go both ways; some days the chef would stick his head out to see if I had called him when I hadn't. It didn't happen once or twice, it was a daily occurrence.
The Footsteps
"Can you hear footsteps?"
"Yeah..."
"SHUSH!"
The Pheasant was an old building, spread over several levels. Like a ship of the time, the ceilings got lower and lower the higher you went. We lived there, several of us who kept the place running. Late at night, once we'd kicked everyone out, we'd sit at the bar and chat quietly while having a couple of drinks. When a dignified silence fell, then the footsteps would start on the floor above the bar. Creaking footsteps that would walk to one end, pause and come back again. Once they stopped, we started talking again and, once we stopped talking the footsteps would start again.
The Fireplace
As an old pub, very old 600+ year old pub, we had several big fireplaces. One of them was a gas fire with a copper hod over it which channeled the gases outside. Anyway, in the summer, this was never on. Never. Because a summer in the south of England can get like France and Spain if it's in a good mood. Sometimes there would be sounds coming from the fire. They weren't normal sounds like the fire needed fixing. It was someone or something banging rhythmically on the hod of the gas fire. Some days it would be 1 or 2 bangs, some days it could go on for hours. Like I said, this wasn't the fire cooling down as people would have thought. Looking back on it, I wish I'd noted them down because I'm wondering if something was trying to to communicate in Morse code.
Call it being psychic, call it being in tune with the universe, call it being spiritually sensitive, call it a sixth sense. Whatever you call it, not even the most powerful of anti-psychotic drugs have stopped me from seeing and feeling things. They've always been there, just on the edge of my vision, or tickling the lobes of my ears. What do I think they are? Beings from other dimensions? Good and evil? Things which are locked to this earth? I don't know and I refuse to try and categorise them.
We'll start by taking a trip in to my own past. Once upon a time, I worked in a wonderful little pub, with a fabulous group of people (some of who may be reading this. Hi guys!), in a small, sleepy city in the south of England. We knew that everything wasn't as it seemed in this 600 year old building. And, from that building, came a handful of tales...
The Voice
This tended to happen when the bar was empty, early morning normal. I'd be cleaning up the bar area and I'd hear someone, as clear as day, yell my name. I'd go looking and yell into the kitchen to see if the chef had called me. Nope, wasn't him. At this point the hackles on my neck would be raised. It tended to go both ways; some days the chef would stick his head out to see if I had called him when I hadn't. It didn't happen once or twice, it was a daily occurrence.
The Footsteps
"Can you hear footsteps?"
"Yeah..."
"SHUSH!"
The Pheasant was an old building, spread over several levels. Like a ship of the time, the ceilings got lower and lower the higher you went. We lived there, several of us who kept the place running. Late at night, once we'd kicked everyone out, we'd sit at the bar and chat quietly while having a couple of drinks. When a dignified silence fell, then the footsteps would start on the floor above the bar. Creaking footsteps that would walk to one end, pause and come back again. Once they stopped, we started talking again and, once we stopped talking the footsteps would start again.
The Fireplace
As an old pub, very old 600+ year old pub, we had several big fireplaces. One of them was a gas fire with a copper hod over it which channeled the gases outside. Anyway, in the summer, this was never on. Never. Because a summer in the south of England can get like France and Spain if it's in a good mood. Sometimes there would be sounds coming from the fire. They weren't normal sounds like the fire needed fixing. It was someone or something banging rhythmically on the hod of the gas fire. Some days it would be 1 or 2 bangs, some days it could go on for hours. Like I said, this wasn't the fire cooling down as people would have thought. Looking back on it, I wish I'd noted them down because I'm wondering if something was trying to to communicate in Morse code.
September 12, 2013
And I Have A Name
I am Bipolar.
I am addiction.
I am an illness.
I am a disease.
Yet I am not contagious.
You won't catch anything from looking at me.
You won't catch anything from talking to me.
Being around me won't suddenly take years off your life.
I am not here for your amusement.
I am not here for you to ridicule.
I am not here for you to point fingers at.
I am not here for you to talk about because I have "something".
I am not here to make you feel better about yourself because you don't have my "disease".
I am not a lesser person than you are.
I am a person.
I have a heart.
I have a mind.
I have emotions.
I have a face.
I have seen the best and worst of humanity.
I wear my scars, both inside and out, with pride.
I have seen the darkest levels of Hell and the highest glories of Heaven.
I am healing.
I am growing.
I have turned myself inside out to get to this point in time.
And I have a name.
My name isn't "disease."
It isn't "illness".
It isn't "Bipolar".
It isn't "Addiction".
It is the one I give you to call me by.
I am me, no matter what you think I am.
I am addiction.
I am an illness.
I am a disease.
Yet I am not contagious.
You won't catch anything from looking at me.
You won't catch anything from talking to me.
Being around me won't suddenly take years off your life.
I am not here for your amusement.
I am not here for you to ridicule.
I am not here for you to point fingers at.
I am not here for you to talk about because I have "something".
I am not here to make you feel better about yourself because you don't have my "disease".
I am not a lesser person than you are.
I am a person.
I have a heart.
I have a mind.
I have emotions.
I have a face.
I have seen the best and worst of humanity.
I wear my scars, both inside and out, with pride.
I have seen the darkest levels of Hell and the highest glories of Heaven.
I am healing.
I am growing.
I have turned myself inside out to get to this point in time.
And I have a name.
My name isn't "disease."
It isn't "illness".
It isn't "Bipolar".
It isn't "Addiction".
It is the one I give you to call me by.
I am me, no matter what you think I am.
August 26, 2013
Cocaine Hell
Cocaine 'rapidly changes the brain' That was a headline from the BBC website. My first reaction to reading it was "No shit, Sherlock". I was hooked on that stuff long enough to know the effects all too well. I was hooked on several different drugs, all dangerous, and all way too much fun to get rid of.Except I had to, for my body and sanity. And it happened on 31st August 2004. My brain broke. Or, as one friend described it, "Pulled out the patch cables and rearranged them". It had had enough of my behaviour and decided to show me by landing me in hospital. Not fun and not pleasant. I never thought I'd be able to break that cycle but, in a way of saving itself, my body showed me how to do it. Several weeks laid up at home meant that I couldn't go out to find drugs. Sure, the dealers tried to contact me (I was a good customer with a well paying job. They couldn't afford to lose me) but, somehow, they never got to the house. Somehow I survived those first few weeks, after which I left the area forever and moved home.I'll never forget the people who helped me through that period. The people who went to the mental hospital with me, who brought me food, or went for coffee with me. They were the steps towards becoming normal again. Yet, somewhere in the wiring in my brain, some things still haven't quite fixed themselves. For example, I don't hold a driver's license because I find it difficult to judge speeds and distances. On top of that, the medication I currently take makes me weary and unable to focus in the mornings. I'm bad enough on two legs at the moment. Can you imagine me with four wheels and an engine?! One day I'll get there, I'm sure.But the whole experience made me realise that we don't live forever. That our bodies are fragile and damage easily. And that they can tell us when they've had enough.31st August will be nine years since I broke my addictions. I'm going to go and bake cake. Give me a shout if you want some!
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-23811712
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-23811712
August 17, 2013
Indian Timing Part 2
At the moment I'm sitting here with wires trailing from my pockets, down my legs before they curl back up and disappear into my back. They're attached to pads stuck to my skin, sending little shocks of electricity into my body. Stupidly I've managed to overstretch the muscles in one of my hips again so I'm hooked up to my TENS machine and toddling about as best I can.
When I was a missionary kid, there was one summer which sticks out in my mind. It was the summer where I seemed to spend one day a week of the long holidays in hospital. Somehow, I'd gained a "thing" for breaking my fingers. By the end of the summer, I was an expert in tearing surgical with one hand. I still have kinks in the ends of a couple of my fingers, possibly as a result of that summer.
How do you control your kids when you live in a massive building and you live in a time before mobile phones? The answer - you try. And try my parents did. At first, my Dad utilised a whistle. We still have it and it's still used. It's the same brand which are used by football referees (That's the soccer for my American readers. Hi guys!). It's loud and, over wide open spaces, you can hear it for miles.
Except that we didn't. We were kids. We had lots of wide open spaces to ignore. The last thing you're going to listen to is your Dad leaning out of a window and blowing a whistle. During our second, and longest stay, at the Lodge my parents invested in a pager (we still have that as well somewhere!). It was nicknamed The Frog due to it being green and a pain in the ass to carry. Problems? It wasn't always guaranteed to be on the person you were calling and it was stupidly expensive to call and leave a message.
Eventually my parents all but gave up. My Dad is the king of lingering threats and you didn't mess with him. If he told you to be back by 9pm, dammit, you were back by 9pm! He has "A Look" which still puts the fear of God in us, although these days it's more likely to make us laugh.
As a kid with this huge place to explore, you didn't want to sleep. There were too many interesting stories to hear, to many awesome pictures to see and, in most cases, too much incredible food to eat. It's a good job we had all of that wide open space to run around in because, damn, we met some awesome cooks! One of my favourite foods was cooked by a lady who now lives in South Africa. She cooked this incredible peanut sauce. Horrifically fattening but it didn't matter. It was a little slice of heaven.
I've just asked my Dad "How did you keep tabs on us while we were at the Lodge?".
He thought about it for a moment before replying, "We didn't."
You can read the first part of this series at Indian Timing. At some point, I'll go in to the attic, find all the photos, and scan them in for you. Thank you so much for reading!
When I was a missionary kid, there was one summer which sticks out in my mind. It was the summer where I seemed to spend one day a week of the long holidays in hospital. Somehow, I'd gained a "thing" for breaking my fingers. By the end of the summer, I was an expert in tearing surgical with one hand. I still have kinks in the ends of a couple of my fingers, possibly as a result of that summer.
How do you control your kids when you live in a massive building and you live in a time before mobile phones? The answer - you try. And try my parents did. At first, my Dad utilised a whistle. We still have it and it's still used. It's the same brand which are used by football referees (That's the soccer for my American readers. Hi guys!). It's loud and, over wide open spaces, you can hear it for miles.
Except that we didn't. We were kids. We had lots of wide open spaces to ignore. The last thing you're going to listen to is your Dad leaning out of a window and blowing a whistle. During our second, and longest stay, at the Lodge my parents invested in a pager (we still have that as well somewhere!). It was nicknamed The Frog due to it being green and a pain in the ass to carry. Problems? It wasn't always guaranteed to be on the person you were calling and it was stupidly expensive to call and leave a message.
Eventually my parents all but gave up. My Dad is the king of lingering threats and you didn't mess with him. If he told you to be back by 9pm, dammit, you were back by 9pm! He has "A Look" which still puts the fear of God in us, although these days it's more likely to make us laugh.
As a kid with this huge place to explore, you didn't want to sleep. There were too many interesting stories to hear, to many awesome pictures to see and, in most cases, too much incredible food to eat. It's a good job we had all of that wide open space to run around in because, damn, we met some awesome cooks! One of my favourite foods was cooked by a lady who now lives in South Africa. She cooked this incredible peanut sauce. Horrifically fattening but it didn't matter. It was a little slice of heaven.
I've just asked my Dad "How did you keep tabs on us while we were at the Lodge?".
He thought about it for a moment before replying, "We didn't."
You can read the first part of this series at Indian Timing. At some point, I'll go in to the attic, find all the photos, and scan them in for you. Thank you so much for reading!
