I was thinking…well, more like dreading Halloween, it’s really not one of my favorite times of the year and I’m just not into sitting at my front door for 4 hours and handing out candy, to kids who just say ‘trick or treat’…the last time I participated in such festivities, I found myself demanding the kids to DO SOMETHING, and to my surprise, they sang, or danced, or told little kid jokes….but on the other side of things…I was thinking…what are some of the scariest, or most bizarre, disturbing situations you’ve ever experienced…or more like, have I?  The kind of scary where your heart turns to ice and starts shaking rapidly in your chest. THe kind of fear that makes you break out in a cold sweat and almost feel as if you are frozen, like someone just put you on pause.

As a child, I do remember feeling instant fear, whenever my mother would ask me to go into the basement, to get a jar of pickles, or green beans. We had an old school house that was made into a home…thanks to my grandpa and his handy skills…between he and my dad, we had a pretty cool pad. The kitchen, had a door, that led out into a closed in patio…full with giant cubby hole, a slight inner deck with a half wall around it. Then the stairs…cement stairs, several of them down, before you turned left and walked a ways to the front door of the house…or, to the basement….about 12 more cement steps down to an old french glass door with a big gloomily dull knob.  I could feel my stomach feeling like someone just tossed ice inside me, and I would instantly have the urge to have to go to the barthroom, because my stomach was nervous and swirling like a squeeky rat on a wheel, running fast and going nowhere. I put my hand on the knob, turned it…breathing shallow now…and then, count 5 steps in complete blackness, hand extended, to find the string, to pull the string, so I could have light.  By now I’m a mess, I can hardly stand it, I grab the pickles and run like a kitten from the giant dog…(that’s very fast by the way)…and that’s it…that was plenty adventure for me in one day.  Other things scared me a child…real things, like death, and seeing people, that were dead…that freaked me out. I saw it once…I don’t think I’ll be all too excited to see another…I hope everyone gets cremated, that way I’ll never have to look at what was once a beautiful animated being….suddenly inanimate, lifeless. What is the point? They’re already gone.

Ghosts didn’t scare me as a kid…I remember having my first encounter with one at a young age, either that or I was simply disturbed with hallucinations….weird part about it, was the ghost looked just like my mother, who was sound asleep in the other room down the hall…I remember because I ran like HELL out of that room to see if my mom was there! She was. She must have thought ‘dear god what have i gotten into with this child!’….

So, a peek at my kind of scary…Halloween just isn’t one of them…and THAT’S OK!!! There’s enough fear in peoples lives eh? Night of the Dead, would mean to me, some peace and quiet.

Lights Out here!

A few weeks ago, I decided I would check out some live music, in Second Life. I don’t get to do that often enough and thought I’d go listen to a performer that I hadn’t heard in quite some time. As I entered the place (name of venue, performer and others have been removed for obvious reasons)…a particular avatar said ‘Hi JueL’..as did quite a few others, as I’m far from a noob, in Second Life…

I listend to the performer on stage, someone I’ve known for quite some time, and who has come such a long way in their performance, especially when it comes to acoustic guitar.

I was completely into the groove, as usual. Then the ‘particular avatar’ that said Hi, said ‘JUEL YOU AIN”T NO ANGEL” and I almost laughed out loud. I decided not to acknowledge the comment, because I simply had no idea where it came from. There was no ‘build up’ to the comment, they just continued to say it and I continued to ignore it. Obviously they needed some attention, but it wasn’t going to be from me. Eventually I left, after the performer on stage said (again completely out of the blue) ‘SOME PEOPLE, don’t know my friend ____… he writes my music for me on my backing tracks.

BINGO.

Why would anyone take time, at their friends performance, to harass another performer, because of their originality, or because they openly raise awareness for benefits, fundraisers and such.

So to you unamed souls out there….I pity you. I have always loved a certain handful of musician and performers, artists etc…but when you harass your audience for no reason, other than you are upset because they do something you don’t…it just shows the shallowness. Changing your avatar because you…well, don’t make friends so easy..due to the fact you find it  more fun to harass…is sad…and people that support those that do these things…it’s ok, I feel really good without that in my life.

There are a small handful of people that find it more fun to draw the negative attention, public attention to themselves, rather than enjoy their experience in SL.

It’s best not to let people like that, ruin your SL experience.

I’m not into drama, which is why I don’t respond to negative comments. I don’t have the energy to get into a WHY DID YOU SAY THAT TO ME conversation…I outgrew that a long time ago. I came to hear music and that’s what I did. Most times I don’t even see the chat. I had left the computer to grab a bite to eat…and happened to see this particular boy, flapping his words around instead of listening to his ‘friend’.

I heard someone once say  ”We tend to let that one negative experience, get to us…and forget all those who love us’

TRUE!!! It’s a bit of our human nature. So instead I thought of all the things I love, all the friends who make me smile, all the moments that are unforgettable in life and before you know it, I have a big grin on my face.

I remind myself, that ONE persons perspective of me, is certainly just that. One. I remind myself that for everyone one person that is feeling challenged, simply because of their own insecurities…is certainly no way for me to judge my path, and there are 10 others who support what I do, because it resonates for them.

One lesson I’ve learned…never try to be like someone else. I learned that when I was very very young. I’ve let it guide my whole life. I’m not jelous of any musician, song writer, artist…I am in awe of them, they move my spirit, they inspire, but they do not dictate who I am, they do not define what I do. They are not ‘competitors’ to me, I do not find myself challenged to be better than someone. I find myself challenged to exceed what I expect of myself, and that is peace to me. I find it my mission to find the best words to describe the pictures in my head….and well, if one little avatar (or the coward behind it) doesn’t like it, and finds it their life mission to copy and paste conversations, or to draw negative attention to themselves….I guess I look at them as the Monkey in the cage….slinging poo because they just simply have nothing else to focus on, but the actions of others.

And now that I’ve put it on paper, and into words…it’s been eliminated from me….like any toxin…it simply turns to waste, and if you’re wise, you know exactly what to do with waste. When life gives you lemonade, you make lemons. When life gives you ‘chit’, you plant a garden.

While I still have today, I would like to somehow, someway, make you smile, or make you think. I would like it if you would take a look inside yourself, and find something that is new, unused, something you haven’t been to before. While I still have today, I would like you to stop forgetting where your flowers are planted, where your seeds have been sewed, where your smiles have harvested. While I am still alive, I would like to know where the bounty of my life has been spent, i would like to see where the path has been cut, so that the next generation can find their way, down a road less traveled.  While I still have this moment…I would like to say THANK YOU to everyone who has positively challenged me, taught me a different way, a beautiful way. I would like to say THANK YOU to those that have inspired me, taken my measure in their soul, taken my heart in their thoughts, have known me, personally…not superficially.

While I am still breathing and while my heart still beats, I would like to give gratitude to my  parents, to my sister, to my family, for always, always, always having the heart to listen, the mouth to speak, the soul to forgive. I would like to thank my husband, for all his hard work, his love, his faithfulness, his gratitude, his forgiveness and his unending love….I would like to smile in complete joy, for all the laughs we share, all the stories we mend, all the hearts we hold…he is a work of magic in and of itself.

While I am still here, still breathing, I would like to say WOW BOYS….the children I have raised and have had the joy of watching grow, have done nothing more than amaze me! For this, I am always grateful. What amazing men they have turned out to be. My friends, My SouL Sistah’s…my soulMates, my spiritual connections……Thank you…..from the absolute bottom of my soul and up, ALL the way! Thank you for the most gracious times, the most incredible moments, thank you for your remarkable stories of faith, loss and success, thank you for always being real!

Tea-Thrift Find

So anytime I find one of these Jar’s or is it called a ‘Carafe’ I’m not sure, but they hold almost 2 quarts..which is just enough to shove in my 3 bags of green tea and 2 bags or the Roobios MMMM~! and then Mom and I are now on Highway 65, and Mom’s driving..and Of course I’m a WRECK..any time I’m not driving, it  pretty much freaks me out ( 2x in my life I’ve been hit at 70mph..so i’m a bit on edge when I’m in a car)….we were on the search for AUTHENTIC Mexican food and an hour later…(6 hours after waking up) we FINALLY come upon an amazing place I used to eat lunch at, when I worked in the Blaine Area, years ago…I was so relieved it was still there.   The rest of the time it was sitting outside around my flowers and plants, looking at the garden we are about to plant..OOOoOoO Can’t wait for that!!!

I missed seeing my sister and dad…but it’s always an experience, to have my Mom time, with the woman who brought me into this world….and is FAR BEYOND a mother to me, she is a soul mate, she is a sister, she is something beyond this life, something that has known me before she herself ever came into this world, by her mother……but that’s a topic for another day.

I received the letter I wrote to Father Mike…I haven’t read it yet. I thought it was 6 pages, it’s actually 9. I can’t believe anyone would even sit down and ready NINE pages…but I was 23 years old and just sooooo desperately needed to pour my soul out to someone… see previous post about Father Mike.

….Moving along to Photos..which is why I even started this in the first place……

If you are interested in any of them, please let me know….they are all 8×10 photos!

When I was in 5th grade, my family moved from Upper Michigan where I attended a public school, to Wisconsin, where I was then placed into a Catholic School. This was especially difficult, considering it was half way thru my 5th grade year and it was quite a challenge to fit in and make friends. I remember clearly making a choice, not to fit in, but just to be who I was…this of course was not so acceptable by some of my classmates, considering I was new and quite small compared to everyone else, I was the perfect target for their insecurities etc….so of course, I got teased quite a bit.  -ENTER-Father Mike-….who was my confidant, the one person I could go to with Anything at Anytime. He was in many ways…my best friend.  My family was also very close to Father Mike as he was so warm hearted and personable…I don’t know who would have ever NOT liked him.

Of course once I finished 5th -8th grade, it was time for high school, and my talks with Father Mike were over and life went on, as any teenager will tell you, we move on to other things, new things, and a PUBLIC school. This wasn’t easier at all, but it was certainly better than the catholic school I had previously attended. I loved the freedom of being able to wear what I wanted to wear, but the bitterness of some of my former classmates, seemed to follow me straight thru my freshman  year. No big deal…people get insecure and need someone or something to take it out on, apparently it was me…..but I wasn’t that unique…most of these people picked on everyone…they were just scared that they weren’t getting enough attention, so this was a good way for them to get noticed….pick on someone. haaaa .. well life goes on and thankfully those years went by quick and I graduated and moved on in my life, making sure I stayed true to myself in all the possible ways I could. I found much peace in my writing, or my music…that has always been my savior thru my whole life, and still is.

In about 1992….I had hit some pretty hard times in my life. In fact I would say I was all but broken in half. My Soul was tired, my heart was in some serious thrashes of right and wrong and u p and down. I was living in Minneapolis and I remember sitting on the hardwood floor of my apartment, and I just HAD TO WRITE it out…there was SO much crap inside of me, that I had to let it out to someone. I started to write:

Dear Father Mike,

It’s me….

and the letter went on. I hadn’t spoken to Father Mike since I entered 9th grade.  Of course I would see him at Church gatherings with my family and we talked in passing.  But this letter was just one of those letters, that had to be written, and I knew one person, I could tell ANYTHING to and Never be judged. I wrote it…I probably wrote 6 pages of pain. I just wanted someone to listen, I guess.  I never heard a reply from Father Mike…and despite all the things I’ve forgotten over the years, and experiences I’ve had since that letter, I never forgot it and I always wondered if he received it.

My mom called me the other day, telling me how her good friend (who was Father Mikes right hand soulmate) was going thru his things, and came upon a letter, tucked away in a shoe box with other things that he had obviously had for a long time. She read the first line and then looked at the last page, to see who had written it…..then she called my mom….

How Ironic. This just has not left my mind. I’m stunned that he had this kept away in a shoe box. I”m amazed that after almost 20 years, this letter, that I never forgot about…as my mom says “Well Sooz, while she was going thru Father Mikes stuff, she found a letter….’  That was ALL my mom had to say. I said “WOW!!!! i only wrote to Father Mike once. I never wrote again. That letter was so full of everything that was inside me, that I would go to my grave knowing full well what I wrote and always wondering who had that letter, did he get it? Who did? …..  It’s almost magical to me, that out of ALL the people in this world that knew Father Mike….the person closest to my mother, was the one that found it…it comes right back to me.  Ironic….

Last night I grieved him. It just really hit me, what a loss it is, for such a wonderful man to die so young (he was 66) and gave SO much to everyone and took on SO many other peoples burdens that it just tore him down.  Sometimes I think when people take on the pain and issues of so many people, that they actually store it inside them…therefore the person who confesses, or discusses, or gets healed….their pain has to go somewhere….I believe Father Mike was a gift for so many…and there were more letters, from some others that were there….I’m certain he prayed for them all. I’m certain that because of the power of prayer, my life picked up instead of down…and well, that’s the way things go…life gives, life takes.

So R.I.P. dear Father Mike ….you have given me a gift that I am unable to express in such limited words.

Food plays a big part in moods, just like it does with anything else in life. Diabetics need to be aware of what they ingest, as well as those with a variety of other various challenges in life. I, with my  bipolar, tend to stay away from red meat, as it tends to irritate me, kind of pisses me off really. No reason, but that my body just doesn’t like to digest it perhaps. I’ll NEVER pass up a bite of my husbands Grilling of steaks…because they are just THAT GOOD, but it’s just a bite…I’m satisfied then..I just wanted a taste and have no desire to eat the whole thing (unless it’s slightly  burnt and very red in the center!)

My Chili

That’s one of my ideas…I’ve already got a nice little stash of FOOD PORN photos in flickr…of various things I’ve made…or made up! haa http://www.flickr.com/photos/suzenjuel/sets/72157611594740820/ This is called ‘ARTISTIC CONSUMPTIONS” but that name will likely change to FOOD PORN….:)

If I do this idea, which I’m already doing, really, in a micro blog type way….I’ll be posting photos of at least 1 meal a day, with the basic ingredients and how to’s of it. WARNING! I LOVE FOOD, a LOT! But I’m also a super healthy eater….(don’t mistake this with being healthy..I just EAT healthy!) lmao!….Lots of veggies, lots of color. If you’re into this…let me know, I would Love some loyal Food Connisuers  to share wonderful ideas with!

Here’s one.

I Love taking Ciabatta bread, spraying with olive oil, pressing down on a hot pan……both sides. Sprinkling parm. cheese all over the top, crushing a few lavender flowers on top of that, a shake of fresh ground black pepper…a fresh spray of olive oil, press down in hot pan again for a minute or less…depending on your HOTNESS…….the parm. cheese forms a wonderful crust….(I’m a lover of lavender…this is your preferences here…lavender has a strong, pungent, distinctive flavor, use sparingly)…..

Dried basil sprinkled on it might be good too……..

PEACE n Good eatin’

Faster than the colors could be seen, they were gone. Then they would come again, spinning in circles, spinning around. Eyes closed to the chaotic spin of vibrant sounds and voiceless pictures. One thing would lead to another, the grass led to the tree, the tree led to the roots, the roots led to the earth, the earth fed the roots, the roots fed the tree, the tree grew, the branches formed like fingers reaching into the sky, the sky was grey, blackbirds were like silhouettes in motion flying across the sky, the clouds hung in the sky, the sky changed colors and turned to tomorrow…maybe sleep would come then, but that’s wishful thinking.
Dreams full speed ahead, bright colors, sounds, smells, emotions…even memories. From room to room, the rooms change, the house gets remodeled the people age from dream to dream, from decade to decade. Their names never to be heard, their faces are always remembered, in the dreams, they do not leave the dreams, they do not occupy life, as I know it, while in a wakened state of mind. This would become me, awake or asleep, there could be no difference, could there?
And that’s when I lie there in bed, eyes open to pitch blackness, and feel like my battery is dying, but the sparks that are flying from it’s passing, keep me wide awake…until eventually, like a plane crashing into the sea, the speed stops, things become still, suddenly…a slow sinking, a peaceful stillness that becomes sleep, as we know it. This other realm begins at this point, the one I sink slowly into, and become like. No longer able to understand the difference between the two, I let go of the former and fall into the nether…

There were boxes upon boxes upon boxes, in row upon row upon row, in a large warehouse with bright orange steel bars creating shelf upon shelf. Boxes of all sizes and wear, some were old and torn around the edges, some exposed little glimpses of past dreams, places I had been before, things I had seen and suddenly I am outside, walking the streets, it’s night and there are strangers all around me, there always are in these dreams, and I am often avoiding people, running into strange oddities of personalities, running into basements, that have open doors, that have people hiding behind them, behind windows with faces that I never can make out…forests and roads that I’ve been down a thousand times, drives I’ve taken, bridges I’ve crossed and fallen deep into the waters below it, trying to save myself from drowning. It’s far too crazy, far too surreal. I know the bridge in my dream, I know well before I get to it that something terrifying is going to happen, and obviously survival wins, because I have no choice but to eventually wake up.  I walk into bars, meet up with old friends that I haven’t seen in years….from other dreams, these are people I’ve never known in my waking life.  There is always the cross theme of danger…there are always places I visit, that I hadn’t been to in decades…in dreams of a younger life.

What is it that causes this? I’ve found it fascinating to analyze dreams, and I’ll admit, I’ve been pretty good at it sometimes, except for when it comes to my own! I believe that most dreams are triggered from an experience that has happened in the past 48 hours. I believe there are dreams, that are ‘just dreams’ and really don’t have a significant meaning. You may have watched a movie about magicians, saw a kid get lost in a big black hat and dreamt of falling into a rabbit hole…perhaps the hat in the magicians hand…shouldn’t have made a kid disappear, but a white rabbit appear…cuz it’s pretty much what you expect, right?  But often the symbolism in dreams, pertains to something that occurred in the past 48 hours.

I think most dream books are a bunch of crap. No one can tell you what dreaming of a black cat means, perhaps you have a fondness for black cats, but the  book generalizes it to claim black cats mean evil…Well maybe for those superstitious people…I happen to have a great liking to black cats.  So the symbol is in your dream is quite pertinent to you and your life and experiences, not anyone else’s.

I often dreamt of cats, but when I was very young I dreamed of strange bugs in my basement. As I grew older, the bugs turned into mice, which turned into rats, which turned into cats…I don’t get those dreams too often, and if I do, they’re often cats, in basements, that can’t seem to wake up, they sleep a lot, they’re often in the same house every time I dream it, but the house changes and so do the people in it.

What’s more interesting, is that the ideal dream temperature is a room about 58-60 degrees Fahrenheit…and if it’s cooler and you are prone to nightmares, you might want to warm it up a notch. Cooler temperatures are idea for bizarre dreams and for some, nightmares.  I’m not prone to nightmares, just vibrant and bizarre dreams, repeating and evolving.  They’re never the same exact dream, they’re like stories being told while I sleep, that progress and change and play off my waking life by reminding me that I’m asleep. I’ve become aware that my dreams are dreams, when I realize in my dream “Oh, I’ve been here before…” and then suddenly I’m snapped back into it again.

The most bizarre dream…well, one of the most bizarre ones I’ve had, I was in a red pickup truck, this was a short time after a very good friend of mine, committed suicide in my waking life.  So in my dream, I’m in the drivers seat of this red pickup truck, it’s daytime, and a man comes up to me, puts a gun to my head and pulls the trigger. I heard a hell of a bang, a forceful gust of wind, and then pure blackness. No sound. No light. Nothing.
That’s how I’m guessing death is.  Perhaps that is what it was like for him, he shot himself.
The song Butterfly Blue came from that experience.

The other strange one, was when I was much younger, and I was in the woods, in my pajamas chasing bugs bunny and elmer fudd. I found an old saw, the kind my grandpa worked on, the blade inside that you can put wood on. I got Elmer Fudd on it and sawed him into pieces and there were blood and guts everywhere, yet…he was a cartoon. Had a bad dream hangover from that one.

Dream hangovers are what happen to you when you have the kind of dream that sort of lingers all around you for hours and hours. I think most everyone has had a dream like that. Sometimes it’s quite good, other times it’s downright creepy.

Another time I’ll probably blab on about this…Sometimes ya just gotta write what’s on your mind. Dreams fascinate me. Sometimes I can’t help but wonder, what life is real…waking or experiencing another realm, during sleep. Is it a small doorway into another life, perhaps our parallel universes cross over during that time?