She Talks To Ghosts

She talks to ghosts
And loses her fear...
of loneliness.
She finds comfort in the might...
of their pain.
Like a child torn mother who always needs...
The needy,
Or something to do...
To make her whole again.
--Lacey Reah

Getting Back to Lesbian Vampires (open letter and free gift to the fans of "Fireflies")

To the fans of Fireflies:

I hope you accept my sincerest apology for not coming out with the sequel yet. It was my intention to end with a cliff hanger and write a sequel if the book did well. Don’t worry, “Fireflies II” is in the works and it will be much more interesting and full of twists and turns than the first book was. I will leave a sneak preview of it at the end of this blog.

I had to first publish a novel I had been working on for years. In fact, I wrote “Fireflies” because I needed a break from writing, “Enlightened Ones,” which was released this year. To understand this better, you can read my blog on how writing about lesbian sex vampires is writing what you know:

http://laceyreah.blogspot.com/2011/01/when-writing-about-sex-vampires-is.html

Anyway, life doesn’t always go as planned and my day job and full time job of being a mother often gets in the way of being an edgy underground writer. To make it up to you, I will post a free excerpt of the yet to be released “Fireflies 2.” I haven’t thought of a name for it yet. Okay, here is a sneak peak of “Fireflies 2” which will be told through the eyes of Jessie, a character who is probably the exact opposite of Linda. Let me know what you think. I might post more if you like it. Btw, Happy Holidays… wishing everyone the most awesome season ever!!!!!

WARNING: The following excerpt contains sexually explicit material that may enhance the enjoyment of your consensual, romantic relationship, but will create a horribly awkward moment if your children get a hold of it...

It is my life that flashes through my mind as I watch Linda on the floor, cursing me for not letting her die. God, she looks so much like Ginger. I wanted to shove her face into reality and make her realize that her ideas about what we’re supposed to be are nothing but illusions. I didn’t ask her to make me into one of them and I don’t have to play by her rules. You’re probably thinking that I’m horrible. Why couldn’t I just play along and be the creature that Linda thought I would be? Let me ask you this: why should I have to kill and prey on the innocent like they do? You ask: why do I fight my destiny when it is so clearly set? Let me tell you the story from my point of view and then you can judge me as harshly as you like.

I was never one to care about what people thought and I always lived my life by my own rules. My parents enrolled me in a Baptist school and I lived under strict Christian rule until my parents divorced when I was twelve. The Baptists told me what I could and couldn’t watch on TV and schooled my parents on what I should and shouldn’t eat. My mother followed everything to the tee. Such a good obedient woman she was. I couldn’t have the toys my cousins had. I couldn’t watch the movies and shows they loved. Everything was evil and sinful and I felt a constant oppression for I loved everything about life and I didn’t understand what there was to fear. I suppose that putting the fear of God into a child would work if she is not curious about anything and needs to be told what to do, but it didn’t suit me at all.

            I got into mischief with my friend Sarah, Sarah Wilson. She was always scared at first but would play along in the end. I think she admired my ability to make her do things she wouldn’t do on her own. We never got caught putting mice in the nun’s desk drawer or writing Satanic verses on the girl’s bathroom mirror but when we got suspended for ditching school so we could spend an entire day at the park, Sarah was forbidden to see me ever again and my world crumbled. Perhaps I could have convinced her to come back to me but I could tell her parents beat her bad. She had bruises on her wrists and a welt on her leg when she returned to school. It was healing and barely perceptible but I was a keen child and I noticed everything.

            That was the fifth grade. I might have had to attend that prison well into High School had my parents not divorced that summer. I chose my dad for custody and saw my mom on the weekends. My parents had religious differences and my mom just couldn’t push her control on us any longer. I was free. I never thought I could ever have a friend like Sarah until I reached high school and met Ginger. Ginger reminded me a lot of Sarah but she was blond. Sarah was a brunette like me. Ginger was healthy and bright and when she smiled at me, she didn’t smile like that for anyone else. Ginger had the most intense intellect. She had a fascination for reading books that were ancient, forbidden or translated from another language. I could tell that daily life bored her just as much as it did me but she always had her books to escape into and they kept her sane. Because of her ravenous appetite for exotic knowledge, Ginger was sophisticated beyond her years. Most of the adults had no idea what the contents of her books were and she was introduced to the cultures and practices of exotic lands and times long gone. I remember her saying to me, “Jessie, they tell us about the way things used to be, that everyone got married before having sex and that everyone respected their elders but I’ve read books from hundreds of years back where people spoke up against the government. I’ve even read books about the sex lives of people back then and we can learn a lot from them.”

“Okay,” I responded. “Teach me,” there was a short pause and her blue eyes glinted as she laughed at me. Nothing was the same after that. I always looked at her differently and she at me and that was when all the experimenting started between us. But for me, it was more than sexual play. It wasn’t just an education in the lost arts. I was falling in love.

            All of us High School girls read Cosmo magazine and there were always articles on sex and how to do it right. It made us realize that for adults, sex is not a forbidden act. Rather, it is a form of play. I remember reading articles on the art of masturbation and we tried it together. We searched for our clitoris and g-spot. “Have you found it yet?” she asked me enthusiastically.

            “No… oh, wait a second.”

            Our mutual masturbation session was our first really intense sexual moment because we felt things in the presence of each other that we shouldn’t have been feeling. It didn’t matter, what was private to me could include her. She was a part of me then. I came before she did and she watched me gasp as I rubbed myself more vigorously. I was hot and sweating and spent while I watched her climax, her head falling back, her body heaving, her mouth moaning. She was so beautiful at that moment. We both looked at each other in silence for a long time when we were done, not knowing what to say. That was just the beginning.

Why I Never Went Back to Facebook

If I wrote this blog two years ago, it would be called “Why I left facebook” but since I never went back, I have titled it, “why I never went back to facebook.” I dropped my facebook account during a time when many other people fell off the facebook bandwagon. Many of my friends followed suit but just about all of them went back. Why didn’t I go back? I saw many issues with the forum so I weighed my options and decided it wasn’t worth my time. Others didn’t like facebook, but decided that the problems they had were small compared to the positives, so they went back.

Well, we are all different. We are all wired differently and my reasons for leaving may not be the same for others but since I’m constantly being asked to go back, I feel obligated to state my reasons for why I don’t want to. Please keep in mind that I am a writer. I am very introverted and private so keep this in mind as I explain why facebook is not for me. Also, facebook has created a new culture which is changing how we treat each other and ourselves and I feel obligated to share my observations on how this will affect us as human beings.

I decided not to go back to facebook for many reasons:

1) They do not care for the privacy or rights of any of their members. They have made my private profile public without warning due to their updates and they took away the ability for me to keep the comments I put on other people's statuses private. They seem to be hell bent on taking your privacy for granted. Of course we live in a time where nobody cares about their privacy. Still, privacy is important to me. It creeps me out that people can spy on you through skype and that we have given up our privacy rights to the government. It gives me the creeps that our fourth amendment rights are being taken away and that anyone can accuse me of being a terrorist. There is so much more to this that people are not aware of but that’s another blog, I guess.

2) I don’t trust them. When my private profile has been made public without warning so many times, how can I trust facebook at all? They will change their settings at a drop of a hat. Many people say to me, there is a way to change your privacy settings but that doesn’t matter because facebook messes them up all the time. When I become a member of a social networking forum or do any kind of business with anyone, I have to trust the entity I am engaging with. Otherwise, I live in a state of paranoia, constantly having to keep track of updates and personal settings in case of gliches. When I dropped facebook, I became markedly less stressed.

3) People don't communicate the way they used to because of facebook. I was once at a party and people started showing us things that were on their facebook page. Next thing I know, the whole room was silent and everyone was in their own world, forgetting that a social gathering was going on around them. People who have facebook have no idea what they look like to those of us who stopped using it. Is this where the world is going? There was a time when ignoring the person who is right in front of you was considered rude, but it has become the status quo.

4) I have an addictive personality. Facebook uses the psychology of reward to get you to go to their site. Reward causes dopamine to be released into your system giving you the sensation of temporary pleasure. You write something and you look forward to someone liking it or commenting on it. When someone does, you feel rewarded. You want to keep going back to see how anyone else reacts. Facebook uses optimal conditioning and trains us like dogs to keep going back. If you have an addictive personality, this can really take over your life.

5) It was a huge time waster and when I think of the hours I spent on facebook, it is depressing to realize those were days of my life I can never get back. One day I looked at the time and realized that I had spent three hours on facebook, posting pictures and responding to comments. When I told a friend of mine that I dropped facebook because I saw I had spent that much mindless time on it, she said that three hours a day on facebook is normal. What? With three hours a day I could finish writing a novel, take on a part time job, look for a job, learn a new hobby, and spend time with my family. Ironically, the same people who spend three hours a day on facebook are the same people who complain that they don't have time or money. Is facebook really where I want to be spending that time?

6) I wrote a novel. I had to make time to finish writing a novel and could only do that if I cut out distractions like facebook. Maybe I’ll go back but then again, I’d like to write another novel and work on other projects that help me grow as a person.

7) It made me a bad mother. I was being rude to my son, ignoring what he was saying so I could read a comment someone made on my status. Then, I have the nerve to try to control his computer addiction. I just heard someone say that the cynicism of teens is due to the hypocrisy of their parents. Why are children addicted to electronics and social media? Because their parents are.

8) I’m protesting free speech. I got kicked off of facebook for writing a political blog on why gay marriage is a civil right. This post was flagged by those who were trying to keep Prop 8 passed during a time when it was going to court. Facebook never considered my side of the story.  I have seen this happen with many other people. Misogynistic comments are spared while feminist comments are deleted. There seems to be a very biased moderation group that does not allow free speech. Yeah yeah, free speech is not an issue because facebook is a private company and can allow what they want. Truth is, we don’t have free speech at all. If I wanted to protest anything on the streets, I have to register with the government to rent out the public streets. The government has to approve it. People have gone to jail for speaking their mind and if you think we have free speech, it’s because you have never really tried to use it. We are becoming a country where everything you say is being policed. How do people react? They decide to never talk about politics. In a democratic nation where we vote for our own laws and leaders, this is very dangerous. If we don’t discuss important issues, we lose what is important to us. People need to wake up and start fighting for what they believe in. Social networking has empowered people to vote for who they want on American Idol but it has made them more timid when it comes to fighting for their rights.

9) It bombards me with advertising. When I left facebook, I could see the sky, trees and mountains again. I could hear the birds chirping. It felt good to leave the matrix. Now I can focus on what I want to focus on.

10) I was getting stressed out by the fact that anything I said could be taken the wrong way and often was. Most things are not to be said in a public wall, but directly to the people who want to hear it. Seeing how cranky facebook made people due to misunderstandings made me just want to go back to emails and phone calls.

11) I was getting bored by people talking about “fake friends.” It’s sad that no one on facebook seems to know who their real friends are. If you leave facebook, your real friends will email you, hang out with you and talk to you on the phone. The fake friends will still be wasting their time on facebook.

12) Do I really need to stay in touch with people I dropped as friends and lovers years ago? If I'm not your friend now, there's a reason for that.

13) I had been annoyed by so many of facebooks policies and the way they handled their business but I stayed a member due to peer pressure. I will never do something that I do not agree with again. I would rather give my time other websites who use practices that harmonize with my sense of the greater good.

14) It didn't help my business. Everything they say about facebook helping your business is bull. My numbers didn't go up after spending mind numbing time on facebook. You get more clients and buyers by contacting people and being good at what you do, not for getting likes on facebook. Since I left facebook, my business has gotten better because I started focusing on what I really needed to do to make it work.

15) It didn’t help me sell more books. I am better off finding forums and websites that specifically target readers and the type of readers who read my kind of books.

What have I been doing since I left facebook?

I’ve been exercising and taking care of my body.

I’ve been a better mother to my son

I’ve gone back to reading books and periodicals that are well researched and that come from reputable sources. This has made me much more intelligent and knowledgeable about what is really going on in the world, which sure beats reading someone complain about who their “fake” friends are.

I finally finished writing “Enlightened Ones”

I’m having more sex. Why did I spend mindless time sitting in front of a screen when I could have been spending quality time making love to my man? I must say, sex is much better for your skin than screen time.

I’ve been getting enough sleep, which is also much better for your skin.

Well, there you go. Again, if facebook is your thing, I totally understand. I just hope everyone understands why it isn’t my thing. We all have different interests and different lifestyles and staying off facebook really works for me.

Don't Be Afraid of the Dead

This time of year, for me, is as sacred as it is festive.

I still recall my first trick or treating rampage when I was nine or ten after moving to the United States.  I was in complete awe.  This was the mid eighties and my cousin's neighborhood was the place to be if you were a kid.  It was all families.  Ever watch E.T.?  That's what it looked like back then, a neighborhood full of people who worked in Hollywood and they all had children.  All houses gave candy and the streets were alive with every kind of costume imaginable.  Times were good and we got a ton of candy.  I couldn't believe it.  You go to people's door and they just give you candy, just like that.  It was unlike anything I had ever experienced.  I had been indoctrinated into the mass consumerism that was America and it left a long lasting impression on my inner child.

I have taken my family trick or treating in that very same neighborhood.  Some of those people still lived there but they were old and their children were grown.  Not all houses gave out candy anymore but it's still fun.

The day after Halloween, I usually go to the Dias De Los Muertos festival to relieve my cultural itch. Sometimes my pagan friends do a ritual for Samhain. Once, my druid priest friend let me join his group for an ancestral regression where I spoke to my long dead family members, shortly after my grandmother died. From the Mexicans, to the Pagans to the Catholics all over the world, we all have one thing in common. We set aside a special place and time to commune with the dead.

In the Philippines, we don't eat candy at this time.  We go on a procession with the family to the cemetery and pay homage to those loved ones who have passed away.  The cemetery was never scary to me.  All of the silly American lore that makes people scared of the dead means nothing to me.  The cemetery is a sacred place where we lay the bodies of our ancestors.  It is a place of peace, a home, a place to go when you are lost.  This is what All Hallows Day is about.

Later on, I moved to Australia and attended Catholic school there.  We didn't congregate at the cemetery but went to church.  Our ancestors were in a grave in the Philippines anyway.  I recall the Priest talking about a place called Purgatory and my parents explained that it was a middle ground between here and heaven and hell.  We prayed for the souls stuck in purgatory and hoped they would go safety into the afterlife.  The Catholic church gets a bad rap these days.  Well, all religions get a bad rap due to the conflict people have raised over them but that is only because we have forgotten the rituals that connect us with what is important.  Many have forgotten what these rituals were truly about.

Later on in my life, I became very curious about my psychic powers.  I dreamed the future and just knew things that scared people.  I made friends with others who shared the same talents and they taught me about the old religion that came before Christianity in Europe.  Most of my Pagan friends are Irish which is funny as I have some Spanish-Irish on my mums side.  There were a few times where I participated in the Samhain rituals.  It is very sacred and it should take place in a graveyard but often takes place in someones backyard or in a nature spot and once in a Unitarian church.  These rituals were very similar to the ones we did in the Philippines during All Hallows (or all Saints) Day.  I learned, that many Catholic holidays such as Easter and the Yule Tide have their roots in Paganism.

When I take my family to the Dias De Los Muertos festival, we eat some great food from the booths and the kids do some wonderful art projects and went on some fun rides.  There are alters for lighting candles, performances on stage by our local Latino musicians and lots of community outreach work going on.  My favorite part about the festival is looking at the chalk art.  I took some pictures once, and I'd post them but I'm very bad with retrieving photos.  the art is sometimes about the holiday, great colorful works of people with flowers and decorated skulls.  Sometimes  you see a random work of art that has nothing to do with the holiday.  Then there are a few beautiful depictions of people the artist loved who had passed away.  They are usually drawn in black and white.  

My two favorite chalk drawings were of these.  One showed two faces in black and white.  In between them was a large flame of what looks like the top of a candle.  The light that comes from it is rendered beautifully.  Above them is a round and serene face looking down on them.  Underneath them it said something about remembering my father and brother.  I wondered what the face on the top depicted until I passed by again and realized that it was the face of the artist.  Another painting in black and white shows the face of a girl and that is it.  I fell in love with it because you could see so much depth in that face even thought the work is in black and white.  I could see her soul in the drawing.  I think people who draw out of love, transfer their soul into the work and it is such a shame that eventually the chalk washes away.  There was a sunny picture of a dog with a hat on, probably a dog that had passed and one of Michael Jackson.

There is always a  parade at the end or an Aztec drum dance.  I love the half naked Latino men and the well dressed Latino women dancing to the live drums.  Once, while watching the parade, I noticed that they were lead by a cross and people in robes and that many people followed their dance with a solemn walk, heads bowed and candles in their hands.  The Catholic church was usually good about mixing religions with indigenous cultures if they were willing to adapt.  Here we have the Catholic holiday, intermingling with the indigenous holiday of the Mexicans.  People often put down living in the city but I love that all of us here have such varied cultures and can still find ways to relate. I can't help thinking how alike we all our.  From Europe, to the Philippines, to Latin America, we all share a common need, the need to remember the loved ones who have passed.

So after your thrill of Halloween and and scary spooky stories has died down, remember the dead for what they really were, people we once loved.  One of the things that separates humans from animals is the ability to think in terms of past and future.  They say it is a bad thing as it prevents us from living in the present.  Yet, it also helps us learn from the past and if we do not listen to the voice of our ancestors; if we do not take heed of our own history, we are doomed.  The voice of our ancestors are everywhere.  When they die, they never truly disappear as their memory and the result of their deeds always live on to affect the future generations. Here's to you, for my two grandmas and my too grandpas. Maybe you can hear me now that the the veil between your world and mine is thin.

My Split Personality, The Marqis De Sade and The Holy Bible

A few years ago, we had an old friend over for dinner. The first thing he noticed was my ever growing book shelves. On one shelf was a stack of two books. The books were “The Holy Bible,” and “The Selected Works of the Marquis De Sade.” He found it so humorous that I would stack a holy work on top of a book hailing one of the most infamous sexual deviants of all time. But such is the story of my dualistic interests. I’ll read Deepak Chopra one day and “My Secret Life” another. I’ll read sacred books on Buddhism and yoga one day and violent horror stories about vampires, monsters and psychopathic killers another. I have read countless autobiographies written by the greatest people of all time and have been moved by their valor and heroism. I have also read the diaries of drug attics, prostitutes and criminals. I’m one big walking contradiction and I’m quite happy to be so.

            If you believe in dualism, this strange notion that there can’t be good without evil or love without hate or any other opposite, you can easily split my personality in two. In fact, I have done this myself, making Lacey Reah the author of books I would rather my boss didn’t know I wrote. Now I have two names. There’s Lacey Reah and… well… let’s call her Mary Sue.

            Lacey Reah writes about erotic vampires and has the guts to tackle socio-political ideas such as brainwashing, cults and even (Lord forbid) religion. Lacey Reah has a strange attraction to shibari, the Japanese bondage art of sexual rope tying and other eastern arts of submission and dominance such as jujitsu. Lacey Reah likes to experiment, go on night hikes, and check out strange venues, alternate lifestyles and crazy people. She has a dirty mind and a sick sense of humor. Though she might offend some uptight twats, she is pretty fun to be around.

            However, when I go to work every day, I don’t act like Lacey Reah. No one knows I’m Lacey Reah. All they see is Mary Sue. Mary Sue is very positive and professional. She is a great mother and role model. She always aspires to be a better person and she keeps her dirty laundry exactly where it should be kept, at home. I guess we all have this Mary Sue mask to wear. Though, every once in a while Lacey Reah might whisper an inappropriate comment at the PTA meeting, she is kept pretty suppressed.

            Lacey Reah hates being suppressed. This is why she writes. She sees no reason why she should put on a mask of professionalism all the time. She’s pretty gritty and wants to be a rap or rock star so she could get paid to act nuts, cuss and pretty much put down the establishment. Too bad she has very little musical talent.

            Mary Sue works hard, stays organized and doesn’t stray from her responsibilities. Her favorite words are: duty, compassion, discipline and service. Lacey Reah’s favorite comment is, “that’s what she said.” Her favorite response to any question is, “your mamma.”

            The two keep me sane. Mary Sue keeps Lacey Reah from falling into the rabbit hole of dreams, mysticism and addiction. She slaps her around and brings her back to reality when need be. She’s the one that says, “don’t forget you have to work tomorrow” and “is what you are doing really worth the consequence?”

            Lacey Reah keeps Mary Sue from being uptight and judgmental. She will often say, “lighten up and have a piece of chocolate,” or “when was the last time you got laid?”

            Lacey Reah has a light and dark side. Mary Sue has a light and dark side. Lacey Reah’s dark side can fall into a delusion of narcissism and over indulgence, allowing her whole reality to fall apart. Her light side keeps everything interesting, is the life of the party and keeps her loved ones amused and infatuated.

            Mary Sue’s dark side is too hard on herself. She is demanding and a perfectionist which can lead to tyranny and an inability to see or let go of the little things. Her bright side is honest and sane and loyal to her job and family.

            Mary Sue’s dark side has a light and a dark side and they have a light and dark side etc. In fact, each personality I have has a light and a dark side which has a light and a dark side which leaves me with an infinite number of personalities of which I can pick and choose from when writing characters. This infinity which can be reduced to absurdity is one of the reasons why I have become a non-dualist. There is no light and dark side, only infinite split personalities.

            In a way, this ability to pick and choose infinite split personalities makes me a better writer of fiction. It also makes me less judgmental of others because I know that they too have infinity of split personalities.

            So, how cool am I? Lol. Once again, I have taken one small philosophical rant and reduced it all to absurdity.  ;)  Maybe there was a lesson to this when I started writing but it got lost in the rant somewhere.

Ghosts -- Just because they aren't real, does that mean they don't exist?

In the past week, I watched two shows regarding ghosts. One was the movie, “The Awakening” and the other was the hit musical, “Next to Normal.” “The Awakening” was a horror film about a skeptic who disproved the existence of spirits, though deep down inside, she wanted them to exist. In the movie she said, “We all want ghosts to be real but that doesn’t mean they are.” “Next to Normal” never made any reference to ghosts. It was about a family dealing with a Mother who suffered from psychotic delusions. She believed her son who had been dead for years, was still alive. 

Ghost stories could fall into three categories, horror, paranormal drama or realistic drama. People who love horror get off on being frightened out of their wits by malicious ghosts who have the ability to terrify them to death. Lovers of paranormal drama fall in love with ghosts, want them to be real, and are touched when the dead are reunited with their loved ones. Realistic stories such as “Next to Normal” may never mention ghosts. The ghosts are memories or hallucinations. In “Next to Normal,” a family is torn apart by a ghost they know is not real and the mother goes through a series of horrible psychiatric treatments to help her get rid of her delusions.

Btw, I love ghost stories of every kind. I feel there is always something deep and archetypal about every type of ghost. They appeal to our own wishes and dreams much like vampires do. I think it is because we truly want ghosts to be real. I can’t think of how many times my door opened on its own. I realize it was just a draft but deep down inside, I was wishing it was the spirit of my long dead Grandfather watching over me. We want to believe that there is a connection to our souls that transcends death. Also, if ghosts are real, it would mean that we aren’t alone, even during our darkest days. They are our imaginary friends.

Harry Houdini, the greatest magician that ever lived, made it his life’s mission to expose mediums to be frauds. However, his initial intent was to contact his dead mother. He offered large amounts of money to find a medium that was real, but he proved them to be frauds each time. Here we have an example of someone who knows too much about magic tricks to be fooled. However, if someone did turn out to be the real thing, he was willing to offer them large sums of money. Deep down inside, he was looking for the genuine article. He never found him or her.

Until modern times, almost every society that ever existed; from ancient pagan cultures, to native tribal cultures, to Christian religions, believed in an afterlife. Coincidentally, most cultures attribute the start of winter or the end of fall as a time for the spirits to visit the living or to move on to the afterlife. I always find it fascinating that my Pagan, Christian and Native American friends celebrate a day where they give reverence to the dead all around the same time. In American culture, children dress up in costumes and haunt other people’s houses. They get candy in exchange for not playing tricks on the members of the household. Are we training our children to become mafia leaders when they grow up? Just kidding, I digress. While Halloween is a commercialized version of all these holidays, the truth is we all seem to need one day or more to pay homage the paranormal.

So the question that arises in my creative, rambling mind is: Just because ghosts aren’t real, does that mean they don’t exist? In the musical I just watched, “Next to Normal,” a ghost that didn’t exist was able to cause trauma to a family. If he wasn’t real, how did he manage to do this? To the writer of the musical, he was very real. He even cast an actor to play him. He wasn’t just a delusion; he was a metaphor. He didn’t just haunt the psychotic woman. In the end, we see how he haunted everybody. Yet, it was very clear that he wasn’t real. At some point in the musical, the mother complained that taking the delusion out of her head didn’t work because it wasn’t in her mind.  It was in her soul. Who can blame a grieving mother for harboring a ghost of a child she loves in the deepest parts of her spirit?

In Buddhism, no one really dies. We all share the same energy. Buddhists learn to accept death as an inevitable cycle, but there is no need to let go because nothing ever leaves and nothing ever dies. Death itself is an illusion. So if death doesn’t exist, is it real?

When I went on the Ghost Tours during my visit to New Orleans, I learned that ghosts are a powerful energy of something traumatic left behind. The haunted areas were more like historical landmarks where very bad things happened. Something still existed, a horrible memory that refused to die.

To those of us who write fiction, we create ghosts. We use them as metaphors. They remind us of people we loved. They help us let go or deal with the unknown. Malicious ghosts represent what we abhor or can’t face. We use them as archetypes and create myths and legends around them. They help us explain concepts that can only be understood through the use of stories. We shape them out of thin air even though they aren’t real. Yet, in the worlds we create, they exist. 

Hacking into Society's Code

Clliff was one of my favorite characters. I like the idea of a computer genius who is also interested in how to hack into society. I also gave him a dark past so his rational methods are not always enough to save him from himself. When we meet him, he says that his major, computers fit in really well with sociology:

“Don’t worry about her. It’s my first year as an RA. I’m a sophomore. I didn’t get too involved in stuff last year, so I really want to be a part of the school system this year. Plus, it’s free food and board. That’s probably the best reason why I’m doing it. The only thing is that I have to act like I was born to be an RA to get in. There’s a system to everything.”

“You think?”

“Take that from a sociology minor. It’s okay to act like a stingy, old RA around people like Carmen; just don’t lose your individuality.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I think that’s how she really is.” JC smiled. “What’s your major?”

“Computers. They fit in really well with sociology,” Cliff responded as he turned the corner. JC was stimulated by the articulation and quickness of Cliff’s voice. He thought that Cliff could talk forever, and it would seem like no time went by at all. As he spoke, his eyes would flutter, as if the wheels in his head were constantly turning, then he’d spurt out his ideas without delay as his brain thought of them. When he stopped talking, his eyes would rest on JC, as still as untouched water. “Computers are the great manipulators of the day. You can use them to infiltrate any system. You can learn a lot if you analyze the programming of coding and decoding. It’s sociology in the making. Society’s just one big computer.”

I like to think of Cliff as the Ian Malcolm of my story. Ian Malcolm was the mathematician in the book, "Jurassic Park," who often rambled on about the problems with with using the power of science without considering the ethics of one's motivations.

Being one of the ex cult members and a bit of a quirky genius has given Cliff the ability to see what is going on in a very objective light. This is refreshing because as the reader gets sucked into the cult, the same ways the characters are, Cliff gives the reader a chance to put their reactions into perspective. When he meets JC and tells him his theories, it provide foreshadowing for what is to come:

“So what does computer programming have to do with society? You mentioned something about it when we met, something about decoding . . .”

“Society is just a computer program. We’re taught this language, and it permeates everything in our lives. It influences our culture, morals, what we think is or isn’t important. Bring in another language, and we have to change everything we’ve been brought up to believe. Think about it—why do you think it’s so difficult to learn a foreign language after the age of ten? There’s just too much deprogramming that goes with taking in a whole new culture. If you hack into a computer program, you’ve got to know its language. Then you manipulate it. You use that language to convince the program that everything is normal, but really, you are controlling it. That’s what our media, advertisers, and politicians do. They use code words that are found in our language to hack into our minds and control us. They’re like passwords.”

“So how do you stop them from controlling us?”

“Antivirus.” JC giggled at this and Cliff noticed his reaction. He smiled and continued. “Let me explain. There are certain words or phrases that rile up emotions in you. They stand for things that you believe very strongly in like ‘patriotism.’ ‘God’ is a big one; so are ‘power’ and ‘money.’ When you hear these words, don’t let them bother you. Turn on your antivirus. Take the word out of its context. Listen to what is being said without the word being spoken. If it doesn’t make sense, then you know it’s a bug. I say, even if it does make sense, further investigation is required. See, most people only hear the key words and not the context because our emotional reaction to these words overrides our intellect.”

JC nodded. He noted the word “God.” Oh, how that word riled up Maggi the night they were in the cave. It made her angry, but JC still couldn’t understand how John could have controlled her by making her angry at him. Yet he knew that hatred was a powerful thing, and Maggi wasn’t the same after that. But if she decided that she hated John Cronus too much to ever listen to him again, how could he possibly control her? He felt that Cliff still had a lot of revising to do with his thesis. He thought of mentioning the situation to him, but decided against it. He would rather keep the subject away from such examples that were too close to home. He preferred sticking to the abstract, to the art of hacking, and the rules of the stars.