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...

Was It Worth It...

Years ago, I was working at a tiny gas station in my home town when a former high school classmate waltzed in, Nick Lukosavich, and was taken back with surprise at seeing my face behind the counter. "Wow, you were so smart! We all thought you would be a scientist or something!" At the time, it felt to me like a partial insult. Instead of exploring the depths of space and biology, I was counting lottery tickets and replenishing beer in a walk-in cooler. This was far from the life I envisioned upon graduating at 18 with honors.

It made me think for a long time, have I squandered away my life and chosen the wrong trail through the woods? My latest move to the West Coast ended with uncertainty and a whimper. It was my own decision to return to Ohio. I had some chances to try to stick it out in California, but I decided that at this time, the wisest decision was to return home, regroup, and make another attempt at moving in the near future. Still, it smelled like failure. Yet another blow to the already bruised and battered ego.

Then, I look at the classmates who have done things with their lives. The actor who starred in independent film and theatrical productions in Europe. The Google employee with a wife and child who seems quite happy with his travels and how his life has gone. The stock broker in the Windy City. The producer at a well-known gaming channel in Los Angeles. They each represent the societal view of success. Security and stability. Each blasted out of Ohio's orbit to write their name in the heavens. And here I sit... a college drop-out back in northeast Ohio scraping by to survive and licking my wounds in seclusion digging through the past and learning about long-dead people who lived fascinating lives. Forbes Magazine won't be writing about my existence any time soon.

But therein lies the trouble with us homo sapiens. We measure our lives against the lives of others. Grey matter is only truly expanded in institutions of higher learning. Who we are is determined by how we measure up to other people. We view our lives in the shadow of other people, sometimes living vicariously through those who have become great. It's all about the here and now, the status quo. What good are achievements if the present is far from an ideal circumstance?

Some people measure success in dollars and cents; the house you own, the car you drive, and where you work mark how far you've come in life and where your rank is among the general population. But should we really see these things as the be all and end all of our whole life? In truth, "success" can be decided by asking just two questions. 1) Have you lived life and not merely existed? 2) Are you happy with how your life has been?

I do not own a Porsche or live in the lap of luxury. Some days are more difficult than others and the future is far from certain. Yet I've seen London and Paris. I'm a publisher author. I stepped out of my comfort zone on numerous occasions to leave my uneventful mundane life and risk it all in the name of adventure. Within one year, I have stood on the shore of both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans and breathed in the salty fresh sea spray. I've followed by heart when my head screamed that it was illogical and foolhardy. I have lived.

The next time you feel you're a failure in your life or that things aren't as good as others have it, pause for a moment and reflect on the path you've taken. Some people never step outside of their small town and never know what world awaits beyond those invisible stone walls of fear we place around us. If you have, pat yourself on the back. Don't look at your pocketbook to measure the wealth of your experiences. Look to the photographs and memories of your past. And if you haven't found the happiness you desire, there is always time to change how you live. The true key to happiness is following your own rhythm within. Find the drum beat and march forth.

The Real Fame Monsters...

What with everything happening personally lately there have been some news stories I missed out on mentioning. Yes I'm still doing my best to survive out in southern California. And it seems to be rough for a lot of people lately. Not just living daily life but also dealing with the paranormal.

Take popstar Robbie Williams, for example. After his switch from singing to stargazing in search of life beyond Earth, Williams purchased a magnificent home on an alleged ley line in England believing it would increase the likelihood of a close encounter. So far no visitors from outer space have popped in for tea at Compton Bassett House. The singer is now putting the 7.5 million manor up for sale and, according to some reports, is willing to sell at a loss. According to the Daily Mail, Robbie is planning on living permanently in Los Angeles, California possibly to continue his extra-terrestrial hobbies... or the other strange and unexplainable creatures found on this side of the United States. I should know. I see at least one anomaly a day... and I can't always tell if they're human.

And now, a current pop chart singer is finding herself in a supernatural bind. Gay icon Lady Gaga is allegedly being haunted. Not by ex-boyfriends or crazed fans, but negative spirits. A paranormal specialist by the name of Dan Webb reportedly sold the diva $5000 in ghost busting gear to help her while on tour. According to some accounts, the negative "spirits" are following her everywhere she goes. At first, Gaga (also known as Stefani Germanotta) thought she could be suffering from schizophrenia but became convinced her problems were of the otherworldly kind, which led to her asking Webb's firm to cleanse the offstage area where she was performing in London.

Has Gaga gone ghost-busting? Nobody knows for sure. But just for a little fun, here's a music mash-up of Lady Gaga and the theme music from that classic 80s movie Ghostbusters:

Paradise for the Dead...

It felt wonderful last night to take a bit of time and explore the history of my new city of residence, San Diego. From an outsider's perspective there is quite a big absence of historical buildings in most neighborhoods here. Like most cities in the United States, the old haunts of past citizens are often lost to what is new and thriving in the present day. But all history is not lost to San Diegans. Scattered around the town and suburbs are little hints of the past... and possibly a few ghosts.

The sad part about this little southwestern paradise is its haunted legends. Don't get me wrong; some nationally famous ghost stories can be found between the canyons and the coast. Yet as is often the case, it's the same stories told and retold. People travel to Whaley House or Hotel del Coronado to stir up a few spirits. We fall in the trap of believing that history is limited to what we know and that with which we are familiar. Yet every place has hundreds--no, thousands--of years or past events buried below the grass and sand. A neighborhood may have been settled within the past century, yet even 100 years of life can provide fascinating stories.

I am once more digging up the bizarre past and interesting ghost stories forgotten by the mass media. And perhaps a few might make it into a sequel of Queer Hauntings (if I find the time and energy to tackle it). A former cemetery turned into a park, an old suspension bridge with perhaps a specter roaming the planks, haunted businesses and inns are but a few of the stories just beginning to be told here on the West Coast. My efforts at finding these new, undiscovered spots have just begun. At this point, the future of my life on the opposite end of the country is uncertain, as is the amount of time I shall stay. But as long as I'm in this new place, there are ghosts to find, stories to tell, and a wealth of past history to share with the world.

The Art of Toilet Paper Diplomacy...

Anyone who has moved to a new location can tell you that it's far from an easy transition. It has almost been one full month since I boarded Amtrak and was carried away to begin a new life chapter on the Pacific coast. I had to hit the ground running, so to speak, and I'm glad. Otherwise I would have had too much time to absorb the immensity of the situation. Life, work, and the daily monotony has eaten away most of my time. Only the past few days have afforded me the time to allow my emotions to catch up. I might be in a new "paradise" of sorts, yet stress and depression still rear their ugly heads.

I'm 2500 miles away from anything familiar. That in itself wreaks havoc with my mind. I miss friendships and acquaintances and the support system that comes with such relationships. I'm starting from scratch and it's not all that easy. My new living environment comes with its own set of challenges as well. We're a motley group of different ages and diverse lifestyles. It's a temporary Golden Girls house with tensions abound. New rules, new people, new everything. Two days ago there was no toilet paper left and someone was grumbling to me about who should have a turn buying it to make things fair. To diffuse the situation and avoid further squabbles (and discomfort) I walked down the hill to the 7-Eleven and bought some rolls. Honestly, it's just paper... isn't it? There's no need to create another World War over tissue.

I realize my living arrangement is temporary. It's stressful enough not knowing where I'll be in another month or two without letting petty grievances ignite into brushfires. Stubbornness isn't always necessary. We're all stressed enough without adding drama to the equation. In a lot of ways, I miss the simplicity of my life as I once knew it. It was dull at times and far from ideal but I knew what was coming at me. Here there is only one reliable thing: the weather. Almost every single day has been sunny and hot. Such a wonderful atmosphere. Why muck it up with unnecessary gloominess?

Overall, I am happy I came here. I truly enjoy San Diego. It's unlike any other city I've experienced. Canyons carve deep trenches weaving their way to the ocean, separating out neighborhoods. Humankind further dissects the region with a complex system of freeways meandering in various directions. Everywhere you go there are differing varieties of palm trees and tropical plants. Lizards climb fences and walls darting out of view in their pursuit of insects. It's windy and gorgeous. And the ocean... well, it certainly doesn't smell like rotten fish like Lake Erie. Salt spray mixes with marine life in a scent that's pleasant and difficult to sum up in words.

So, this is my temporary home. A little spot of heaven with reality trying to edge its way in to break the spell. My temporary work will be ending soon. I'm desperately seeking out any means of income I can find while trying to figure out where I'll be living at the end of the month. Paradise doesn't come cheap and the price of living is often higher than you would expect. Still, do I think it was a bad decision on my part? Definitely not. For once, I gave a valiant effort to jumping off the proverbial cliff and seeing if I can fly. I've taken chances that most people would be too terrified to dream. I'm gliding through the air in free-fall and enjoying the view. But in the back of my mind there's that nagging voice; "I sure hope the parachute opens when I pull the cord."

Some people are terrified of ghosts and haunted places. Others are afraid of crawling things and flying insects. They never bother to realize that there is one thing more frightening than any creature, living or not. And that's life. Living is the scariest thing on earth. It's uncertain, unpredictable, and ongoing. There is no escape. You can't run and hide. Whether you like it or not, you're on this roller coaster to the end. Don't let life paralyze you with fear. Accept the adventure for what it is and learn all that you can. Take risks. Jump. Fly. The more time you spend learning about the world around you and where you fit into the puzzle the less scary everything will be.