Who's mental?

I always have to do several very different things. I can’t just concentrate on one thing. And I always jump back and forth between all of my various projects. This blog is project one. The two novels I’ve been writing are two and three. Freaking Bookworm is four, I Rocked the 90′s is five, Letters of Love is six, Scars Can Speak is seven, and I’m sure there are more I’m not thinking of. I need to learn how to focus, because if I can’t put enough effort into each of these, none of them will do that well. I feel like a kid with ADHD. Hell, maybe I have ADHD. Then again, I also think I’m (more than?) slightly compulsive, neurotic, and bipolar. I think these are things I should mention to my psychiatrist.

The mirror is a rapist

The mirror is a rapist in disguise. It is trying to kill me.

Every time I turn off the lights and crawl into bed, it steps forward menacingly. It moves closer and closer to the bed, until I turn the flashlight on. Then it jumps back into its place in the corner and it. is. JUST. a mirror.

With the light off? It’s a rapist again. Because the rapist got in through the locked garage/basement/front/back doors, came upstairs, AND into the closed bedroom door without me hearing it.

When the heater kicks on? I jump. When the toilet randomly makes noise? I jump. And let’s not forget the self-drying Whirlpool tub. That motherfucker is actually a ginormous vacuum in the ceiling that is going to suck me into outer space and perform rude, invasive experiments on me. As if I don’t have enough problems.

As I sit downstairs at the table, working on my laptop, I’m convinced that there is someone standing in the backyard, Michael Myers style. But there are no footprints.

The rapist has technology.

I know you’re coming for me, motherfucker. And I have a message for you: you can’t get me, as long as I have the flashlight I am safe, and I see RIGHT THROUGH your flimsy disguises.


So if I disappear and stop updating, dear readers, you know why. It was the mirrorrapist.

All the white noise can't leave the scene behind

The first time that I remember it happening, we lived at the duplex.

I sat in the pink upstairs bathroom, doing my business. Suddenly, as if listening to a radio, I heard a woman’s voice. I couldn’t make out anything she said; most of it was static and crackling. I looked out the window. No one there. No one lived downstairs or upstairs from us, and to my knowledge no one was playing a radio in the house. As crazy as this sounds, the static came from inside of me.

(Note: I don’t hear voices. Promise.)

I got the hell out of the bathroom as quickly as possible.

It happened every so often after that, in the same pink bathroom. Same woman’s voice, washed out by static.

White noise.

Another time, I sat on Mommy’s bed in my parents’ bedroom while Mommy read to Lauren and I. The phone rang and Mom answered it. I could hear my aunt. While Lauren and I sat waiting for the conversation to end so we could get back to whichever Narnia book we were on, I heard the white noise again.

I looked frantically at my sister. She heard nothing. I looked at Mom and tried to tell myself it was just my aunt’s voice that I was hearing, but it wasn’t. I tried to tell myself it was some radio station crossed with the phone lines or something, but it sounded exactly like the same woman’s voice, all muffled and drowned out by static. No one else heard it, either.

I was definitely creeped out.

Luckily, I haven’t heard it in years.

Until last night.

I usually go to bed listening to some kind of music on my BlackBerry (it’s also an mp3 player) — especially if I can’t sleep, am stressed, or worried (which I am, all three). Last night I plugged in my headphones, stuck them in my ears, and heard weird noise.

Not headphone feedback.

White noise.

I can’t even really explain it, but I know it wasn’t just a regular headphone thing.

I noticed that I had accidentally turned my camera on (there’s a button on the side), so I exited it and the white noise stopped. A second later, it started again.

No woman’s voice, but it was definitely there, and definitely creepy.

“Lauren?” I didn’t want to wake her up because I knew she had to go into work for five in the morning, but I had to make sure I wasn’t losing my damn mind.

“Hmn?” She turned toward me.

“Listen to this.” I handed her the headphones. “I don’t have music playing. I promise. Just listen.”

I watched her face as she listened. Her eyes widened a little. “That’s weird.”

“Isn’t it? It’s fucking creepy. White noise,” I said, taking the headphones back and putting them back in my ears. I could still hear it.

I hadn’t even thought about the white noise I heard as a kid until this morning, when I was on Twitter talking to Kreshnik.

I’m trying not to think about it anymore. What are some weird things you’ve experienced but couldn’t explain? Leave a comment and share it!