Occult of Personality...

Again, a great amount of time has lapsed since I've taken the time to write. Being back in Ohio has been an interesting experience, to say the least. There have been some good moments which have made me realize what I missed... and more than enough situations which made me think, "Seriously... what was I thinking coming back here? I'd have been better off leaving the Cleveland area a distant memory only seen through a television show!" What little time I've had between returning to mundane day work and battling my ever-determined pursuit of a life free of drama, I'm often too exhausted to think about any long posts... or even find odd news to share with the world. This past weekend was my unpacking-and-getting-my-place-looking-livable days so I feel somewhat more comfortable stepping into a bedroom free of boxes, piles of paperwork, and half-finished projects. But it never ends. Life can be a little overwhelming at times.

Then I asked myself why I neglect my blog as much as I do. And I was surprised to find that I had an answer: change. A decade ago (and even a few mere years ago for that matter) there was so much amusement and enjoyment for me in dealing with the paranormal. It was actually fun more times than not. Investigations were mini adventures with kindred spirits. The Cuyahoga Valley was that magical place I spent my teenage years and some of my happiest memories. There were the occasional bad days but as a whole the journey was a pleasant one.

Then... life changed.

I started looking beyond my own back yard to find places and hauntings, which led to a broader world view and the realization that there is so much life (and death) out there I wasn't exploring. My life went through a series of changes and alterations, each one shifting my perspective and awareness. I began to meet new people, some of whom have become truly wonderful friends and associates. But most of all, the fun frolics turned into contests and drama became the mainstay of that once sleepy hamlet in which I live.

Anyone who watches paranormal television knows there are always behind-the-scenes dramas playing out in paranormal groups and organizations. They just never quite capture the entirety of it in a 30- or 60-minute time slot. Rivalries are rampant and the main reason that advancement NEVER actually happens in the field. It's always about who has the better photograph, who went inside the coolest locale, or what group has the most friends on MySpace or Facebook. It's not about the paranormal, it's about popularity. Who gets to be the regional diva? How do I get the world to notice ME?

So many people want to be famous. Image takes over and obliterates anything else standing in its way. It comes in the form of amassing huge amounts of mediocre-at-best photos and EVPs or distancing yourself from people who aren't a carbon copy of your particular "vision". Really important things like honesty, acceptance, cooperation, and camaraderie are lost in the dust. It's the next Amazing Race or Big Brother. Who can climb their way to the top first and win the grand prize?

The reality is there is no prize. No blue ribbon for hippest spook seeker. No trophy for the best-dressed investigation team. At the end of the day you haven't transformed into Oprah Winfrey. I'm sure some people might say, "HA! But Ken, you wrote Queer Hauntings! Aren't you in it for fame and fortune too, you hypocrite?" The honest answer is no. I don't write to find my name on the New York Times Best Sellers list. I don't to signings and lectures to appease some deep-rooted starvation for affection and admiration. I write about what I find interesting and what I enjoy. I write and do talks to share what I learn with others and to educate people. If I have one person walk up to me and say, "I just wanted to say thank you. You opened my eyes up to a whole new world," then I've succeeded in doing what I set out to do: to make people think.

You might think from all of this that I now hate the paranormal or have banished the whole thing from my mind and life, but that's not the case. I still enjoy the strange and unusual tales and places found in the tiniest recesses of our vast, incredible home called Earth. I love a good ghost story and the history of people, towns, streets, waterways, and buildings. But the mob mentality that comes with being mainstream? That's just not for me. I spent a large portion of my childhood trying to figure out who I was. Another chunk of my years was spent learning to allow myself to be who I was. I'm finally getting to the point where I feel no shame or guilt about being me. My individuality is not negotiable nor will I sell it out to the highest bidder. And being the unique person that I am, I'm entitled to being respected by others for my own originality. I don't ask other people to march in my footsteps (though it has happened in the past on a few occasions). I expect the same decency in return.

Paranormal studies are an examination of freaks. In one sense of another, everything from ghosts to UFOs to bigfoot are freakishly bizarre by their very nature. And those of us in the field can often be described as so as well. But there is nothing wrong with being an oddity, an anomaly. It shows resistance to conformity, the daily battle we all face between who we are and what society wants us to be. If you can honestly say you are truly your own person and unbending to the social and societal waves pummeling you each and every day then give yourself a pat on the back. And remember: you're the only person you have to live with for the rest of your life... and quite possibly beyond that...

But I'm Wearing a Freudian Slip...

Friday the 13th is upon us once more. Another jinxed day which, for those of us who are single and/or unfortunate in love, quite fittingly is a precursor to Valentine's Day. But perhaps black cats, dead people, and lunatics deserve just as much love...

I have had a very productive week with writing and after today's frantic typing, I should be on track for an early deadline. It's a relief to know that in a few short weeks, this book should be complete. While it won't be completely written to my own satisfaction, gathering all the required information and history would require another year and a small fortune in travel, inquiries, and hands-on investigation. So, I'll settle for being more thorough than others in the past and giving as full a story as I can in the alloted time.

My thoughts this week have drifted to psychology, perhaps in part from reading William March's The Bad Seed. That, combined with past experience and discussions in psychology, made me realize what a pseudoscience the field really is. I know some people may disagree, but the truth is we still know little about the mind, its functions, and human behavior. For every shrink who states emphatically the causes of one human thought process, another declares the exact opposite as truth. People are categorized into boxes as they best fit for diagnosis. Dreams are interpreted by some as subliminal messages, and to others as the mind discarding useless crud. When some personality traits and outside that "type", they are discarded and dismissed... it is "close enough", they say.

What's scientific about being "close enough"? Should a panther be lumped into the canine family simply because it shares many characteristics? Hardly. And when it comes to the paranormal, we often make the same hasty assumptions. An orb is paranormal because it's semi-transparent and odd. Sometimes, it coincides with other experiences. We assume so much is paranormal because it's "close enough". Therefore, if psychology is viewed as legitimate science, shouldn't parapsychology be just as accepted?

I'm not saying any one is true and the other false. It's just a random thought. I've always been an odd thinker. I remember back in my early school years being taught in basic science about light and color. Teachers told me that objects appear as a certain color because they reflect that shade of the light spectrum. Leaves are green because they reflect green light, etc. My initial thought (which has never been answered sufficiently) was this: if that's true, then what color are things really? Is the world composed merely of black, white, and all shades between? Color is merely an illusion, is it not? Things have certain properties which cause them to reflect colors, so they aren't really those colors, right?

Yes. I think far too much.

Reality is very subjective. The world around us is entirely open to interpretation. Like psychology and the paranormal. And the insane. What if insanity is really sanity? What if being sane is, in fact, being delusional? Who can say for sure? Is a black-and-white photograph a true representation of our world? Is someone who talks to "invisible people" simply seeing and hearing what we cannot? Is life one prolonged dream from which we only awake at our death to realize our life has only begun? These are all strange and frightening ideas. But what if they're true?

The more we try to unravel the mysteries of the universe, the more puzzling everything becomes. If religion is nonsense, paranormal is bunk, and magic doesn't exist, is life the biggest delusional sham? Isn't everything we do beyond basic survival and propagation of the species one big lie to fool ourselves into believing we have meaning? Remember, we're just animals in the grand scheme of things. Is love just an accidental chemical reaction?

The real question is, do we want to know the answers? Human beings dislike reality. Illusion is safer. Fiction more tantalizing. Reality is a sleeping pitbull in the corner of the room. Better not wake it up...

"...and how does that make you feel?"

All That You Will See Is a Celebrity...

So many people in the world claim to know (or even to have slept with) a celebrity. people make bold statements, often to be ridiculed by others online and in real life. To say that you know someone famous is to be arrogant or showy. Of course, it's not always true. Sometimes, knowing someone with some level of fame happens by sheer coincidence. Sometimes, it's not all the glamour people think it is.

Long ago, in high school, I was involved with singing and acting. Some people, such as myself, simply used it as a fun social outlet. Others had aspirations of stardom. When you're young, no one really expects any of their peers to make it anywhere. it's just a dream that most likely leads to table-waiting jobs in New York City. That reality is always in the back of your mind.

One of my classmates seemed to have the acting bug. We weren't close by any stretch of the imagination. He was the nice kid who treated me fairly. The one who leaned in close to me during choir to make sure he was on the right note. Eye candy for a shy, quiet boy yet to come out of his shell.School came and went. Years passed by. And then came the fateful day, watching an Absolutely Fabulous marathon on Comedy Central. A commercial flashed across the screen as I was getting something to drink. That voice. It sounded so familiar. But no, it couldn't be...

But it was.

A few years later, I was browsing for new movies. I stopped cold. There was that face staring back at me again. The movie was Camp. I grabbed a copy and watched it. I laughed and fidgeted. Daniel Letterle really had made it.

A few more years went by. A few more movies. The Mostly Unfabulous Social Life of Ethan Green. Monster Island. I heard through the grapevine that he had returned home to Ohio and was living relatively nearby after a bit of a rough time in Los Angeles. On a whim, I emailed him. A while later, I finally heard back.

During the summer of 2007, we became reacquainted again. Living only a mile away, it was quite convenient having a new-found friend for socializing. We laughed, commiserated, and watched movies. We even plotted out a comedy script. I learned perhaps more than we care to learn about our friends. We had moments of disagreement, sometimes bordering love-hate. His life became rougher and had a few down slides. We stepped away for a few months, losing contact.

On November 14th, 2007, I was out with fellow ghost hunters having dinner at Spaghetti Warehouse in Akron, Ohio. As we waited to be seated, I saw him waiting tables. At first, I wasn't sure what to say so I said nothing. Finally, an hour later, I caught his attention. He seemed different in a positive sense. He didn't have that facade anymore. He wasn't pretending to be anyone. He actually seemed happy... stable. We talked briefly and said we'd get back in touch. We still haven't caught up on life and news.

Sometimes, people hold actors and other celebrities on a pedestal. We think them to be impervious to pain, emotion, and thought. In reality, they're just the same as all of us. They have hard times. They make mistakes. They try to seem happy when they're screaming on the inside. They feel confused about themselves and their lives. But they're human too. Beneath that tough exterior built up by the harshness of Hollywood, they're just like the rest of us.

I always had a difficult time thinking of Dan as a "celebrity". He was just Dan: the goofball kid who tried making other people laugh and be happy. The boy with the slight exhibitionist streak who would wander around before high school plays in nothing but a pair of white briefs, simply for the shock value. The guy with hopes and dreams, and deep down, a heart of gold. He's not a meal ticket or a toy. He's just someone who, all frustration aside, I still consider a friend. And like most friends I've known, we lose touch now and then.
Wherever he is now, whomever he's with, and whatever he's doing, I do hope he's happy. And perhaps our paths will cross again some day...