But here goes:
My blog thoughts for this week, as documented in my planner:
- Stupid Internet Quotes
- Lane is Haunted
- No one looks good in a Fedora
- Imma let you finish...
Alrighty! So let's get started! (I think there was more enthusiasm in those two sentences then I've expressed all week)
Stupid Internet Quotes. We've all seen them. We've seen also, the backlash to them. But why do they persist? We all know they are stupid.
Like this:
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| Usually handwritten, you know, to make it more "personal". |
Well. Simply put it is because of hormonal girls that are trying to be "deep" about their petty little life situations.
Why do we need these to pop up on our StumbleUpon or you know, all over our Facebook news feed? Because these poor people need validation that their life is difficult but they are oh so brave and wise for the way they tackle it.
Well you're life probably isn't all that bad, and putting up random quotes on the internet isn't much better than running away from your problems. Just saying.
A more proper approach might be to actually address the situation. Just a thought.
Moving on. That's really all I have on that. Internet Quotes are annoying!
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So Lane Hall might be Haunted, even though I still tell myself I don't believe in that crap.
But lately there have been things happening that I can't explain. At all.
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| Oh, is that the answer? Who knows. |
Let's just go way back to the beginning of the year, and make our way to the present.
So I'm sleeping in Lane for my second night, and I hear this noise in the ceiling. It starts in one corner of the room and travels to the other. It's a "whoooooooooooooooosh THUMP", as if something is being dragged and then picked up and dropped.
So me, being a non-believer of things like souls and ghosties (I know people too well to think we all have souls), decides that it is the fan. Right. So I go turn the fan off.
As if to mock me, the sound starts again.
"whooooooooooooooooooosh THUMP"
Well I didn't think that was very funny. I went back to bed. And the stupid sound continued ever 7-10 minutes for the next two hours, approximately 2-4 in the morning. Now remember that time frame. It's important.
So the next morning I got up and put a chair on top of my desk and lifted the tiles of my drop ceiling to check out the pipes.
About that. There were none.
So I huff and walk upstairs into the room above me. There's heating units but none have been turned on by Maintenance, as it is still 80 degrees some days at this point in the year. There's nothing in the room that would be dragged across and thump at the other side. And my reaction to this? To scream under my breath and stomp the floor in a mini-tantrum. Whatever it was, it was keeping me up, and I was pissed.
Luckily, "whoooooooooooosh THUMP" stopped a few days later. So I figured I could sleep. Right? WRONG.
Then the goddamn dryers started going.
Let me explain. So it's between 2-4 in the morning. I wake up to someone banging the dryer door in the basement back and forth and generally making a huge racket. So I grab a pen and paper and proceed to go downstairs to write-their-ass-up: whichever resident thought it would be funny.
I get down there and the dryer and washer doors are just idly swinging back and forth. Well then. Hilarious. I'm down in a cold dark basement in my pajama shorts to yell at no one. I angrily stomped back up the stairs and went back to bed.
The next night the noise happened again. Stubbornly, I just stayed in bed and tried to sleep through it.
The next night it happened AGAIN. This time I'm sitting in bed, seething. I have a right to sleep too dammit! So I stomp my way down the stairs, and lo and behold, the doors are swinging by themselves again.
Now, bear with me. I'm sleep-deprived and pissed. I let out another frustrated scream and slam both of the doors shut. I may have even kicked one shut, but hey, I was angry. And then I said, to the totally empty basement "AND THEY STAY THERE!"
...That went well I think.
So I woke up super early the next morning. Meaning I got about 2 hours of sleep. I go in the basement. Who is going to be doing laundry at 5:30 in the morning?
AND THE GODDAMN DRYER DOOR IS OPEN.
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| AHHHHH! GODDAMN DRYER GO EFF YOURSELF! |
Now, most normal people would scream and run back up the stairs, thinking some horrible ghost is hot on their heels and they wont make it out of the basement alive.
Me? I threw another mini-temper tantrum and slammed the door again. I don't like being screwed with.
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Moving on. So the dryer/washer door slamming stopped after that, and if it didn't, I've learned to sleep through it.
I'm sleeping. It's between 2 and 4 in the morning. I actually think it was around 2:20 am. I wake up to my music BLASTING. (Stacey's Mom by Fountains of Wayne, if anyone was wondering.)
I rush out of bed and go to turn it down. As soon as I reach my speakers my door flies open.
Well well well...
I turned my music down. I looked at the door. It's not moving or anything. I shut it.
Then I allowed myself to think about the situation. My first thought is that I must have woken up the whole house. My speakers must have been turned all the way up.
...But I didn't have them turned all the way up. I was writing a paper late into the night, past Quiet Hours. So I had turned my music down to just where I could hear it while I wrote my paper.
Why was my music turned up? When I looked on my laptop control it said it was turned down. But when I looked at my speaker controls it was turned up all the way.
I know I hadn't done that.
I must have looked pretty stupid to the ghosties, if there really are any, sitting in a T-Shirt and undies and messing with the volume controls on my computer at 2, almost 3, in the morning.
Eventually I concluded that my computer had updated during the night and it had turned my Pandora on. Even though I know it didn't and if it did it would have been the same volume I had it at when I went to bed.
Sometimes lying to yourself is good if it lets you go to sleep.
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So I let it go. Whatever. I'm not hurt, just pissed. Life is good.
My residents are saying that they hear footsteps going up the stairs. One even said that she thought I got locked out of my room, because she heard someone messing with my door. I hadn't. Interesting.
One says she hears windswept voices, just enough to catch the tenor and tone. I don't know what to think of that. I just laugh and say that they are polite ghosts that like to say "Good Morning".
Ahem, I mean
"Goooooooooooooooooooooood Morrrrrrrrniiiiiiiiiinggggggggggg"
Haha. Well. It was funny to me.
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So nothing really happens for awhile. My door to the kitchen has a habit of flying open, but other then that it's pretty quiet in my room.
I'm coming home from classes, and I shut my door behind me. I don't slam it, I'm not pissed off. I've had a good day.
All the books on the top shelf of my bookshelf go flying out. For once, it makes me jump.
And then I get pissed. I have to put all of those back.
So I do. And then I try to rock the bookshelf, slam the door and open the window and slam the door to recreate the incident.
Nothing. My books are in there.
That's not normal.
I back up and sit on my bed. What just happened? It's bizarre and for once, just a little upsetting.
Later, it might have been that night, I go out with my friends and we get some hair dye and have a hair dying party in Lane. One of my friends claims she is sensitive to ghosts; her whole family is. She tells me she's genuinely afraid of what is in the basement, and the thing in my room feels like a little kid.
Well that's just great. I hate kids.
She tells me that the little kid is attracted to that side of the room because it probably likes my drawings. She says she particularly feels energy around the one I am working on of Duncan, and around the corner where I have three paintings hung.
In a bizarre change of roles, I tell her that if there is something in my room, it's not malicious. She agrees with me, but says she can't say the same of the thing in the basement.
So I tell her the dryer story. She doesn't seem to that I went into the basement by myself at 3 in the morning.
I generally just listen to them go on about ghost stories while my hair is being dyed. It takes awhile, I have long hair. I take it all in and think about it.
It could be possible, except I still don't think I believe fully.
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It's about 3 days after I've dyed my hair, and I'm looking for my wide tooth comb. I need it bad. My hair is being ridiculous.
I can't find it. I haven't been able to find it for over a week. I'm pissed.
I give up, and I go to pull a bin off the top of my wardrobe to put some of my summer clothes in.
And there it is. Along with my pick, something else I had been looking for. They were both centered in between my bins, on the top of the bureau.
I didn't put them there. I have to get a chair just to look there. No one else has a cause to look for those combs. Why the heck were they up there?
I forget about the friggen' bin and grab my combs and look at them. What the hell?
At this point it's still un-explainable. I know for a fact I didn't put them up there. I certainly didn't put them up there centered on the top of the wardrobe and stacked neatly one atop the other.
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I guess "No one looks good in a Fedora" and "Imma let you finish" are going to have to wait. It took too long to explain why my hall is messed up.
Did I mention it used to be a funeral home?
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