G is for Ghosts

I have always had a flair for the spooky stuff. And I mean, like the good spooky stuff. Not the movies that the teens recommend-those rarely creep me out. But the ones where there’s some effort to hit the right notes and keep us guess. I can never really guess what it comes from. If you looked to my earlier posts, you see how I’m able to give my dark side it’s own expression in creative authorship. But why does it have to be that way? Why all the ghosts?

Ghosts. I’ve always been fascinated with them. They fell low on the Dewey decimal system, so I never really went too far into the library for better books than the ghost sections at .0001. And, surely, the UFOS and Bigfoots had a strange fascination for me as well.

And I would also arrive at the religion section. So, yeah, if you can see that link, you can see what was motivating me to read.

I even remember watching the entire first season, on Wednesday nights, of Ghost Hunters. Before the internet and fame took it down. The whole season, by myself, because the husOtter couldn’t handle it at all. And Ghost Adventures? One bad night of stomach issues kept me to the couch, and, since I couldn’t sleep, I watched.

The Famed Fire Girl Photo

By the way, if you get a chance, watch the original movie that inspired the soft core porn show on the Travel Channel. The stripper/host, Zak (no H here, he can’t spell it with “Zach!”!!), slips on his tightest t-shirt and goes to town. GREAT footage.

Zak Bagans, host of Ghost Adventures: The Quest for a Tighter Shirt

And, yes, very, very scary, the show isn’t. But, yes, his movie is.

My point with this rambling? Why ghosts?

My mother said it’s always been there. And this is the lady who bought me my first tarot deck at 13, cause, as she said, “it just seemed to be something you’re interested in.” The fact is, my exposure to death and dying came at a high cost. My biological father passed when I was a mere 4 years of age. In my personal history, that man did not exist. But in reality, my mother once regaled, I was fascinated by the funeral. Riveted. She said that I looked as if I was waiting for someone to spring forth.

Inate? Doubtful. I still got spooked jsut like the rest of the kids, finding myself more than a few nights in the living room rocking chair, reading a King novel, too frightened to tuck myself in. For such a young persona, it was hard wired into my noggin. It was as if my soul needed to find out what would happen to it.

Ghosts seemed like a choice; religion, another approach.

Made sense, given everything.

I’m still interested. Found myself, even today, as I listened to the Everything Ghost Podcast and wondering why everyone seems to have the same experiences again and again. That’s cool, and all, but the fact is, it’s lousy spooky storytelling. Novelty is the way to go.

Things don’t jump out at those who know it’s coming.

In fact, my first book was a ghost story novel. But, I aimed it at young adults. And gay young adults.

And it sucked large moosepenis. Big time. So there’s still some work on that one, that’s for sure.

This all leads to me to make some big statements.

Yes, I do believe in ghosts. Seriously.

Stop laughing. I have no issue with admitting it. But I’m also not one to shy away from the concept. I think that ghosts are the results of something scientific, not necessarily the lost soul of something.

Here me out. I think that we’re more psychic than we realize. And what happens is someone sensitive activates a haunting. They provide the energy and then report to others their interpretation of the haunting. I doubt it’s a lost soul. I see it weird that a ghost would refuse to go over to stare at people when they sleep. If they are truly lost, it would be more like “The Sixth Sense” than anything. But that’s not what I read when I see famous stories of ghosts. In those stories, it’s spooky stuff happening in spite of the actions of those seeing the apparition.

And that there’s a scientific reason for this.

That part, however, I’ve not ironed out.

There’s also that part that says I’m wrong. That the spooky stuff is, indeed, the spooky stuff.