You know, talk about Indigo Children is becoming more and more popular, but it’s rare you hear about Indigo Adults. I’ve always known I was different, and I’ve always figured I was Indigo, but there’s not a lot of research done into the habits and mental processes of Indigo Adults. I did find some info on the subject today however and it’s scary how well I fit into the Indigo Adult demographic

*Many Indigos may eschew or quit college and either go straight into the workforce or go to vocational school.

I quit highschool and while I completed college enough to get an associates degree in liberal arts, it was basically through sheer obstinance. While I might go back if I had the money to do it for sheer love of learning, I’ll never go back to earn some useless degree.

* Many of Adult Indigos are self-taught, skillful researchers and library-divers.

Yeah, that’s me in a nutshell. I belong to eight libraries and work in a bookstore. I consider myself self-taught and I’ve been reading things like Tolkien since first grade. Life without books or the internet would simply not be worth living.

*Don’t whine at Indigos about opportunities or money.

S’right. We don’t care. There are more important things to worry about than physical gain.

*The thirties are a decade of rediscovery and recovery of the extremely high-end psychic abilities, like instant access to the Akashic realms, real time remote viewing, instant assessment of people’s thoughts and intent, deliberate synchronicity (sheer “dumb” luck) simultaneous time-hopping (paralleling) and other intriguing “gifts.” The healing gifts uncover themselves in the third decade also. The fun really begins in the forties, and the “late-bloomer” aspects of the mature Indigo begin to emerge.

Here I am, thirty, and old and new abilities are coming “online.” Really they’ve been getting stronger for quite a few years. I’ve been seeing the “shadow people” and hearing voices, especially when I’m trying to sleep. Don’t worry. None of them are trying to get me to do anything. They’re just abstract phrases and incomprehensible whispers. Guess we’ll see what another decade brings.

*Many Indigos will not marry or have children. We could care less about sex, and some older Indigos have often wished that we could have come in as a neuter/neutral gender so we could do our work free of the sexual harassment of the breeding populace.

Now this one was downright eerie, because as my mother and family could tell you, I’ve been bemoaning my sexuality for decades. I really would be neuter if I could and have often said so. I have always said there should be a neuter sex. People are constantly threatening to “fix me up” or act confused as to why I’ve never dated. Really it’s not that I don’t find people attractive or have “urges” (darn hormones), but I really do see it as a distraction and irritant. I have more important things to do and worry about than sex.

***

In honor of the new growing season, I’ve dedicated this week’s newsletter to Devas and nature spirits. Visit this week’s Sites of Interest for some interesting and entertaining webpages, and then read this week’s article on Weeding Consciously. In anticipation of spring, try your hand at making the living wreath featured as this week’s craft.

I think perhaps my collection of smilies has gone through its final permutations. I got rid of a few and doctored a few which were not showing up well against my background. I also found a few new ones to add to the “family.” I’m up to eighty-eight smilies. I now have two Cthulu smilies.  hehe  Is there such a thing as a smilie addiction?

Speaking of Big Green and Gruesome… I’m changing the format of my webcomic slightly. As I’ve always felt that my writing ability outweighed my artistic ability, Arkana will now have more of a graphic-novel approach than the word-bubble mania it has been up till now. In other words, more story, less art. I feel that I can convey the attitudes of the characters better through my words than I can through their limited facial expression and badly displayed body language. Besides, I feel this will give the story more meat and move it along at a slightly faster pace while allowing the readers to see more of the inner workings and attitudes of the characters. Hopefully this will also gain me some new readers, maybe even some fanmail or art.  :: hint hint ::

heh, here I am again. Bet you were beginning to think the stalker guy or the zombies got me. Nope, they’ve just been piling on the hours at work (I worked 11 hours last night! Gah!) and my family’s gone to Illinois to visit my sister, leaving me to take care of the dog. I’ve had to spend more time away from the computer than usual, so I can hang with our depressed dog. (She’s not allowed in my room because I am allergic to her.) Blah, major web withdrawal. And I’m also tired because I think I either had the flu or food poisoning the day my family left and I haven’t had a chance to really rest.

I had the oddest dream last night. It was like watching a cheap B horror movie. This guy was sitting on some bleachers, and some kids were nearby doing kid stuff. It seemed like a bunch of people were gathered together for a picnic or something. The guy sitting on the bleachers started to spontaneously combust, but no one seemed to notice, not even the guy, until the kids nearby looked up and started shouting and pointing. By then, flames were shooting out from his shirt and arms, and he started running around the bleachers. Someone threw open an ice-bin next to a consessions stand and he shoved his flaming hands in the ice. But he was still smouldering and when he pulled his arms from the ice, his hands had broken off and his arms were charcoal. In minutes, he was little more than a charcoal statue, and people were standing all around aghast. A shame too, cause he was rather cute before he got turned into a cinder.

My sister just called and said, “Well, I just picked mom up from the hospital.” WHAT? Gah. Evil sister. Apparently my mom sprained her ankle stepping off a curb. Darn old people, she’s lucky she didn’t break a hip. lol I shouldn’t joke, I sprain my ankles all the time doing the exact same thing. The worst I ever sprained my ankle was simply by stepping out of my room. One step, and boom! down I went like a sack of potatoes. I have such terribly weak ankles. Ah well, she should be back home by tomorrow night, and I can see how bad it really is.

For those curious about the smilies-script on my comments page, follow this link for the basic script. It comes with it’s own smilies, but you can customize as I did. Please don’t directly link to my smilies as it will slow down the load time and they already load pretty slowly. Just right-click and save any you like to disk, then down load them to whatever free image hosting site you find. I use Photobucket.com.

Apologies for the lack of newsletter on Wednesday, but I really didn’t have time to do it between extra hours at work and taking my mom out for her b-day before she left on her trip. Oh, and I should say that I will be looking at Jung more closely since he comes so highly recommended by folks I respect.

Scary-stalker-guy was back at Borders last night. I made a post about him several months ago when I last saw him in the store. He was the one who told me he saw vision from God and was attacked by demons whenever he tried to sleep. He also told me his ex-girl from and the mother of an underaged teenaged girl both had restraining orders against him.

Needless to say, I was abrupt to the point of rudeness when he tried to talk to me and ran away to the register when a call came for help. Luckily my break came a few minutes later, and I could escape to the back room. A customer and two of my fellow employees told me he was looking for me while I was on break, but luckily he must have left while I was in hiding because I didn’t see him after that. One coworker told me he brought up a book he wanted me to look at, and another told me he left me a note (EEEEK!) which they threw away.

I hope I don’t become restraining order number three!

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Anyway, I received this news article in my email this morning…

And then there was one

Historian examines the bloody clash between paganism and monotheism

It’s actually a book review for

God Against the Gods : The History of the War Between Monotheism and Polytheism By Jonathan Kirsch

If you read the article, I think you’ll agree it looks like a very good book. I think I’m going to look it up at work today. Actually, I saw it at work the other day. I saw the title and thought… “oh boy, here we go.” Guess I should have looked at it a little more closely before I formed an opinion!

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Oh, and anyone thinking of seeing Dawn of the Dead. Go, see it. It was awesome. I consider the original Dawn of the Dead to be one of the best in the series, and while the new Dawn of the Dead rewrites the basic zombie-virus to the point that it seems a mutation of vampirism coupled with some elements of 28 Days Later, it’s really worth seeing if you are a fan of the Dead movies. These are not shamblers. Aside from a few slow spots while the survivors are holed up in the Mall, the movie was very fast paced with one notable (short lived) cameo.

I had a dream last night that I was in South America in an Inca city, but it was filled with people from India. I crawled up the side of an abandoned house and saw a folded twenty dollar bill sticking out from under the roof. So I lifted the roof (the whole thing) and found mounds of American money. Most of it was normal enough, but some of it was really odd, like three dollar bills and three thousand dollar bills. It wasn’t fake money (least not in my dream), but real money and I had the impression it was hidden before a war. I took it all and stuffed it into a duffel bag and high-tailed it out of there. I passed through a swampy grass-land where I think someone (or something) was hunting me.

I was just about to sign off and go to bed when a bright yellow-white moth started fluttering around my plants. I caught him and took him outside… which is probably a death sentence for the poor little bugger, but since a moth in the house is a death omen anyway, hopefully he was presaging his own death and not anyone I know.

Bugs know they’re pretty safe in my house because I won’t usually do anything to them unless they’re destructive or bother me. Too bad moths eat clothes, so out he went.

He didn’t want to let go though. Bounced around in my hands all the way down the stairs and to the kitchen, desparate to get out, but by the time I opened the back door, he was acting like we were the best of friends. Leave you, oh no never! You’re so nice and warm and it’s so cold outside. I think I’ll just crawl around on your fingers for a bit.

Sorry little guy. I’m going to bed. You’ll just have to hope it warms up tonight and that there’ll be no more snow.

Night all.

I feel like I’ve had a hundred dreams lately, but I can only remember snippets that fade away completely upon waking.  I know I haven’t been sleeping deeply enough to get into a good REM sleep, so everything’s vague and gone before I even reopen my eyes. I wake up every three or so hours.

It’s very frustrating.  I love my dreams, even the disturbing ones. They’re so much more entertaining than “real life.” No book ever written compares to my dreamtime. Considering I’m a confirmed bibliophile, I guess you’ll just have to take my word that. heh

**

In other news… I was really pleased with this week’s Arkana. Some of the poses and facial expressions were wonderful. I guess I’m becoming a better artist all the time. And since I’ve introduced Gozala, I suppose I should mention I got a short story accepted to an anthology. The reason I bring it up is that Gozala is the main character of the short story and if you like my comic, you might want to buy the Anthology when it comes out so that you can read her back story. If you buy the book, I think you will discover I am a much better writer than artist.

I’ve been keeping it quiet and haven’t even told my family . The anthology will be called Elementary, My Dear Cthulhu:  Mystery & Detective Tales of the Cthulhu Mythos to be published at Lindisfarne Press.  Cool, yes? I’ll let you guys know more as I get more information. I don’t intend to tell my family until I have the book in my hands. I don’t want a repeat of last time. My mom was asking me about it nearly every day and then that jerk at mediumrarebooks broke the contract. But nuts to him, I think I’ve found a more honest publisher.

**

The Essay: Moonstruck
Is poetic license enough of a reason to explore the empty frontier of outer space?

(My comments below were inspired by the above article from the Village Voice)

You know, I’m of several opinions on the subject of space exploration. I would really like to go into space within my lifetime (although I doubt it will happen), but I feel that 1) in the case of Bush it’s an attempt to distract from current politics and stupidity, and 2) that there are better things that we could be spending the money on… like food and shelter, medical aid and social reform. On the other hand, the idea of going into space is so inspiring that it would be good for the morale of the American people. On the other, other hand, do the American people really need more morale? We’re a pretty arrogant lot already.

I really think the money to go into space would be better spent elsewhere. We should be working to better ourselves socially before we go infecting the universe with our immature squabbling and greed. I’ve been thinking that people should be able to say how their taxes are spent. Perhaps this is a platform I can one day run on if I run for president (if I don’t throw my hands up in the air and leave the country in digust before I’m old enough to run).

We should be able to opt for how much of our taxes are spent on military programs, or education, or social programs, or space exploration, etc. The conservatives could spend all theirs on military, and the liberals could put all theirs on social reform and everyone in between could divvy their taxes up to go to whatever programs they like. Then if it was calculated by the amount people opted to place in the space program that people really did want to go into space, we could dedicate more time to that endeavor.

But wouldn’t it be horrible if we finally got out into space and no one wanted to hang out with us because they thought we were a pack of unrefined, immature hooligans?

We need to change things, not get distracted by giant tax-funded Roman Candles. Unless there’s a huge meteor heading right for the Earth that I should know about, I really think we can wait on the space programs in favor of improving the quality of life for all people, not just a few in a higher tax bracket.

Something occured to me the other day. I used to avoid looking people in the eyes. For quite a few years, I lived in the city. The general consensus is, if you look people in the eyes, it’s just asking for trouble. Beyond that, I’m just not that social. If you look someone in the eyes, it’s pretty much an invitation to come on over and be friendly. My habit is to avoid contact. I don’t want personal entanglements with strangers. And lastly, I always thought it was best to be non-confrontational. If you avoid looking a person in the eyes, they would feel superior and have no need to beat you down to make themselves feel superior. This I learned in highschool over a decade ago. Considering how brutally it was drummed into my head, it was a hard lesson to unlearn.

Lately I haven’t been avoiding eye contact. Surprisingly, people seem to respect me more for it. Well, most people. There’s still the idiots out there with superiority complexes, but the majority of people who I look in the eye seem to be grateful for the contact. Meeting their eyes also helps to make my points. As someone in retail, I’d say that looking someone in the eye helps to “make the sell,” whether it’s selling books, music, or dvds… or myself. People trust your opinion if you can look them in the eyes without flinching.

And I’ve come to realize that most people have really beautiful eyes.

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Well finally… I have some time to post again. Yeesh, weekends suck. Thanks to Anam’s post about her dream, I remembered what I wanted to post the other day while Xanga was taking it’s little break. Yup, it was a dream.

I wonder how many of you are familiar with the Hellraiser series of movies? I have a thing for cerebral horror movies. I don’t care for Friday the Thirteenth or Nightmare on Elm Street. I mean what have they got going for them besides teenage sex and gore. Blah. No plot… though Nightmare on Elm Street put up a good pretense as the series evolved. I am a huge Vincent Price/Edgar Allen Poe movie adaptation fan, and also of Lovecraft adaptations, though I’d only recommend a few as being semi-well done – Herbert West Re-Animator and Necronomicon (which is more “Lovecraftian” than a true adaptation). And of course, the Evil Dead movies! Yay for funny horror. Wheee!

But in any event, I’ve seen up to the fifth Hellraiser movie. I understand there’s a sixth one, but I’ve been unable to find it. There’s also a seventh and eighth movie in production. Number five -Inferno- was pretty awful, and not in a good way. But I understand Clive Barker, originator of the series, didn’t particularly care for the fifth movie either. He did however like the sixth, or so I’ve read.

So in this dream (that I have taken a great deal of time getting to in my loquacious ramble), I had actually managed to purchase my DVD player. Something you all know did not occur in reality. lol So my mother, and I were at a mall that was having a “sidewalk sale” wherein the stores basically push carts of discounted and defective crappola into the wide halls outside their storefronts and let people paw through stuff that they’ll probably pitch in the dumpster once the sale is over.

We were outside a video store which had books and videos on a rolling cart when lo and behold I saw the much sought after sixth Hellraiser movie among other Hellraiser books and movies. Whoopie! Well, obviously I was very excited…. until the cenobites started showing up and I was running through the mall to get away from them. lol Hey, I may like to watch the Hellraiser movies, but under no circumstances would I like to join its unholy cast of nightmares.

So I was running down an up escalator and then through a department store. No one seemed to notice the Cenobites but me, even though they were snatching people and either killing or converting them into cenobites. I hid in a long rack of clothes from two cenobites that must have been trekkie nerds before their transformation (yeah, like I’m not heh) because they were walking about with little tricorders and tracking my movements with Spock-like efficiency as I scurried through the jungle of hanging clothes.

Apparently the cenobites were searching for me specifically and wouldn’t go back until they found me. Even though I didn’t even get to solve a puzzle box or anything. I guess just the search for the sixth movie was enough of a puzzle to summon them lol.

This middle aged black guy hauled me out of the clothes and then dragged me through a couple stores as we ran from the cenobites. It turned out he could see them too, but in his case, it was because he was half-way turned into one and was trying to prevent them from getting me. He didn’t say why they wanted me, and I guess I didn’t ask. But he lifted up his shirt and showed me he’d already been gutted. Ewwwww.

And the dream ended with me hiding out in a cardboard box. Well, guess I should be happy the cenobites didn’t get me.