As we huddled near a crackling fire, listening to a story being told by my friend’s friend, we all gave each other inconspicuous glances, wondering if the story could actually be true. You see, it all began when my friend suggested that we get together after the holidays. We hadn’t seen each other since the summer, and she felt that our getting together was long overdue. So she invited us up to her cabin in Lake George, New York for a weekend of pigging-out and dishing the dirt. Little did I know what I would soon encounter. 

Anyway, after hugging each other on the front lawn of her massive lakefront property, we went into the house and got settled into our rooms. Later, after a fattening and fabulous dinner consisting of pasta, fried chicken, and dessert, we huddled around her enormous fireplace, with five bottles of red and white wine, and played catch-up with each other. That’s when Sophie, my friend’s friend, who was invited for some unknown reason, broke into a story that left each of us speechless.

It appears that Sophie was in Oklahoma, visiting her mother, when she was in the backyard picking corn. She said that the sky had turned a hazy shade of dark gray and that the wind had begun to pick up. She claimed that normally, if the weather changed suddenly the way it did that day, usually a tornado wasn’t far behind, but this was not a tornado, she said. It was a storm brewing, just a rain storm with dots of lightning. Well, anyway. She was picking her corn when a bolt of lightning crashed in the sky, leaving her no time to run. Then bam! She was hit by lightning.

We all snapped into attention and just stared into her face. I mean, what were the chances of surviving a lightning hit? So, my friend, Jayne, said to her, “Dear God! So what happened to you? Were you burned or knocked unconscious?”

We all waited to hear Sophie’s answer. Sophie said, and I quote, “I was knocked to the ground but got right up. That was it. Not a mark or blemish, nothing.”

“Nothing?” we all said at the same time.

“Not a thing,” Sophie said.

Now keep in mind that we didn’t know Sophie. She was invited by our friend, Joanna. So we glanced over to Joanna, waiting for a nod of approval, or a shoulder shrug, or something to validate her friend. But Joanna was so flabbergasted that she couldn’t respond.

Now, I ask you. What do you say to a person who says they walked away totally unscathed from being struck by lightning?

Do you call them out, or do you just politely nod, smile, and change the subject?

If you’re interested, you can get me on Twitter. Just hit the Follow @Valliedee button to the right of this post. Then, send me your links. I’ll go and check it out and post it to MediaSnitch. It’s that easy.

Have a great day, and I hope to see you on Twitter.

I hope the closing of 2011 will be the final chapter of any unhappy events that have crossed your paths’. As many of you know, it’s been a tough year. I’ve met so many friends through WordPress and Twitter who’ve shared heartbreaking stories of how they’ve suffered either financially, physically, or mentally. Each of us try to live each day the best we can. We do what we can to get by. We give our best and hope for the best, but sometimes life doesn’t return the great reward that we seek.

I want to say that the best is what you will always do. The deeper part of you knows that you’re doing your best. You may feel undeserving, or not good enough, but I’m telling you that each human on this planet is good enough.

Life will always be about one thing; and that’s the learning of all the lessons that it teaches us. I hope that each of you will dig deep within your hearts and learn that you are magnificent beings who came to the physical plane to experience the physical world all for the purpose of your soul’s enlightenment. Each of you, no matter what stage of achievement you’ve obtained, are brilliant, capable beings who were made in God’s image. Just know this, if nothing else, that you can always count on God to get you through the day. All you have to do is ask, and then believe.

May 2012 be your year to shine; to rise above life’s atrocities and to find all the answers and desires that your heart searches for.

I wish you all the best and look forward to  sharing with you a happy, prosperous, and fun-filled new year.

Until we meet again . . . be well.

Love Val

I am having trouble following you guys. Now I’m not saying that I follow EVERY blog, but I do like to reciprocate when someone follows me. I like to show my support. But every time I think I’m following someone, I find out that I’m not. I don’t know about you, but when I read a person’s blog, I click the follow button on top of the blog. OR, when I get a notification that someone’s following me, I go to their blog and follow them. BUT just now, I went to look at my list of blog followers, and those whom I follow, and there’s like nobody there.  AND I know that there are. AND I know that I’ve clicked on that follow button thingy. SO, don’t think I’m a real dummy, but can someone tell me what I’m doing wrong?

Your’s truly

Val, the metaphysical, anxiety expert who can’t figure out how to click a button.

Throughout my life, I’d always heard the expression “The rich keeping getting richer, and the poor keep getting poorer”.  And I had always bought into it.  I had always believed that this was the way of the world. Hearing my parents say the above statement, repeatedly over the years, not only made me believe that if we were poor we were going to stay poor, but that the rich were the only ones who’d continue to grow financially and stay that way. But, recently I’ve discovered that although the above statement is true in many ways, it couldn’t be the furthest from the truth. Follow me as I explain this double-edge statement.

Why the rich get richer and the poor get poorer

Here’s the deal: It’s all about belief. It’s all about the words that one uses throughout their day–and throughout their lives. It’s all about unmasking what you believe about yourself, and then retraining yourself to believe positive and constructive truths. It’s all about what we tell ourselves that will determine if we will become rich or stay poor.

So, it’s like this. The rich stay rich because they’ve conditioned themselves to believe that they will always be successful and will always have money. Therefore, thinking that they’ll always have money causes them to talk like they’ll always have money. And they’ll use positive words to express their feelings about having money. And it’s their words that paint MENTAL IMAGES which the subconscious understands, which in turn attracts more of what they’re thinking about. Remember I mentioned that thoughts are pure energy which vibrate either high or low depending on what the thought is? Remember that thoughts will attract whatever is its vibrational equivalent? Remember I said that we learn from infancy to correlate pictures with words and that our brains see pictures first; therefore, our words are turned into pictures which the subconscious reads and responds to? If our words turn into pictures then what pictures are you sending to your subconscious mind–the part of you that takes orders and then proceeds to attract them into your life?

If you’re having financial difficulties, you’re probably worried that at the end of the month, you won’t be able to make ends meet. Worrying over not making ends meet attracts more negative thinking. It’s called habitual rhythm–a term used by Napoleon Hill. Hill clearly states that not only will you attract what you think, but that our thoughts attract more thoughts. Did you know that? Ever notice that you have a thought that won’t leave your mind? You’ve been dwelling on this thought–in various forms–using multiple scenarios–and continue to think this thought for days, maybe even weeks. And it doesn’t stop. Over and over and over you have this thought. And over and over and over you play it out using different scenarios. So our thoughts not only attract and manifest what we think, they attract more of the same vibrational thoughts. And the only way to stop it, is to deliberately pay attention to it; because most of the time, it happens without our awareness. We think so quickly that half the time we don’t even know what we’re thinking. Images and ideas pop in and out of our minds in nano seconds, and if we don’t pay attention to what we let in, we could get ourselves in deep trouble.

Okay, back to the rich. The rich have thoughts of money.  Over the years, they’ve worked at becoming successful. They’ve stayed on track toward their goals, despite drawbacks and obstacles, until they reached the pinnacle of success. They knew the key to success was to never give up and to remain focused on the end result. Once they reached their level of success, and understood that never giving up was the key to it, they felt certain that they could always be successful; and therefore, success was now a word which was used often and impressed upon their minds. The more they thought about success, the more they achieved it. And the more they achieved it, the more convinced they were of always being able to achieve it. And the more convinced they were of always being able to achieve it, the more money they made and the richer they became.

Do you see the pattern? The rich think rich and they grow rich. But what happens to those who struggle financially? Is it because they think of money problems that they draw money problems to themselves? Are they thinking about being poor and therefore growing poorer by the day? Yes, they are thinking poor, and it’s because of habitual rhythm that they’ll continue to do so. 

I’m stressing this to you so that you will understand that our words affect our lives. I’m trying to make you understand how our brains work in correlation with our thoughts. This isn’t a little thing we’re talking about. This is how we exist on this planet. We, and I’m including animal life, plant life, and vegetation, are pure energy which vibrates at various levels–and this includes our thoughts and our mental communication. Therefore, if our words are sending pictures to our brains, which then gets filtered and deposited into our subconscious minds, shouldn’t we be putting better words into our thought banks? Shouldn’t we try to deliberately catch what we’re saying to ourselves so that we can change our situations and begin manifesting good things?

But how you ask? How do you stop thinking about your financial mess when you’re living it? ONE STEP AT A TIME.

I’m not going to feed you some nonsense that by thinking rich you will immediately become rich. It doesn’t work that way. You’d be lying to yourself and your subconscious would know it and give you resistance. You must approach this task in increments. It must be done with deliberate focus and intention. It starts by changing your words. Then it gradually shifts when you say nice words, and when you tell yourself that you’re  aware of the process and that you are improving your situation everyday by deliberately choosing to do so. It’s a step by step, inch by inch work-in-progress. And it’s the only way it can be done. In time, and I’m thinking thirty days of doing this non-stop, you’re going to start thinking differently. You’ll be a little more positive. You’ll be choosing your words more carefully. You’ll be alert to what you’re saying, knowing that whatever words you’re using will absolutely affect your life.

One word starts the ball rollin’. One good word. Then another. And another. The human brain creates circuits through repeated performance; in other words, it creates habits. Keep doing something for thirty days and it will begin to sink into the subconscious mind. Do it now. Do it for you. Change your words. Think kind things. You’re a great person. And you deserve the best.

One word.

One day at a time.

That’s all it takes.

Steve Buscemi as Nucky Thompson--Pic from The Guardian UK

The screeching guitar is playing over in my mind. I can see the Atlantic’s waves crashing bottles of booze up against the Atlantic City shoreline. I can see his face–his bulging blue eyes darting from left to right. The music. Jimmy Darmody. Nucky Thompson. Margaret Schroeder. The blood. Dear Father, what will become of HBO’S Boardwalk Empire?

If you’ve been watching HBO’s Boardwalk Empire, the series which depicts the life of Enoch “Nucky” Thompson, the crooked, gangster treasurer who ruled Atlantic City back in the 1900s, played by none other than Steve Buscemi, then you obviously watched last night’s thrilling season finale. Okay. So why? Some one tell me why they killed-off Jimmy? I just can’t believe it. And Nucky? Did you see how he screwed-over Margaret Schroeder, played by Kelly Macdonald? Did you see what she did at the end? Nucky’s gonna be one pissed-off person when he finds out that his land was signed over to the church. Tsk, tsk.

Now, if you haven’t been watching Boardwalk Empire, then you haven’t a clue of what the show’s about. And I’m sorry that I can’t get into a full synopsis as it would take way too long. But you can go onto HBO’s site and check it out there. Wait, I’ll get you the link. Be right back. Okay, I’m back. Here’s the link. HBO OFFICIAL WEBSITE   Check it out if you have time.

So, did anyone watch it last night? Do you think Jimmy is coming back? And what’s with all this snow falling all over my blog?

I thought that today, Friday October 24, 2008, I would take time and read some other people’s blogs–you know, to see what’s happening and to see how they write. Hey, I’m a writer, and this is what I do. I’ve read some awesome viewpoints, and I’ve read some poorly written blogs that had great ideas and content, but were grammatical bombs.

Here’s one person’s blog which I found very note worthy, and if you have the chance, you should read it. I’m going to put the link right here where your iddy, biddy finger can just tap the mouse. This blog is written by Susan Loone. Check it out. Police arrest 6 year old

Also, a note worthy read is an article by James Pinkerton–yes, another Obama masterpiece. Talk about the existence of the devil. Wow! Check it out here FOX WORTHY READ

So I’m off now to scout more good reads. In the meantime, if you have a blog worth reading, hook me up. Hugs!

Valentine

I had a male friend who put mayo on oatmeal. Can you imagine? Okay. So what’s with me talking about mayo and mustard today? There was a big thing around my house last night about which is better. I know. We’re pretty pathetic, right? But you see, the boyfriend was making a late night snack, and he put heaping spoonfuls of mayo on his sandwich. I was completely grossed out and told him so. But did he care? Nooo. He looked me right in my face as he gleefully took a monster bite of his sandwich and then laughed when the mayo squirted out from his bread and landed all over the table. AND it was all over his mouth. I don’t have to tell you what it looked like. And he knew it bothered me so he began chewing with his mouth open, displaying the most grotesque mess one could witness.

Gosh, I have so much writing to do, but I couldn’t let this go without an honorable mention–kind of like when I keep talking about nose pickers . . . Oops. Did I mention that again??

I was on a mission. I was out to prove, to my good friend Trini, that ghosts and spirits don’t hang out at the cemetery. I’ve been in many situations where I was in proximity to the spirits of people who had passed on, but I’ve never had it happen in a cemetery. Trini, on the other hand, was raised by an extremely superstitious grandmother who lived in the West Indies, who insisted that ghosts can only be found around their headstones. I knew she was wrong. I’ve had many experiences with the after life in my house, in hotels, and even in my car; but ironically, never by the their graves.

Anyway, it was a Thursday night, and the setting was perfect. The full moon had cast a misty, white haze around the earth, giving off just enough light to pave our way. I quietly got out of the car and walked over to the old and weather-beaten headstones, which dated back to the 1600s. Trini was still sitting in the car, too afraid to come out.

“Come on,” I whispered loudly, waving at her.

She vigorously shook her head and yelled through the closed window. “No way!”

I pulled my collar up and then folded my arms against my chest to keep warm. “Will you come on? Ghosts don’t hang out here. I’ll prove it.”

She opened the door and looked up at me. “You only telling me dat because you see dem all da time, you voodoo woman.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t see them. I only smell them. And I am not a voodoo priestess. Okay?”

“Den how do you know tings before day happen? Huh, huh?”

I let out a bored huff. “Your sarcasm is duly noted, and if you don’t get out of the car, I’ll put a spell on you.” I knew that would do it.

She quickly got out and came over to where I was. “Okay, don’t put no spell on me. Trini don’t need to be quackin’ like a duck.”

I decided to ignore her voodoo duck remark and pointed to a group of headstones that were nestled near an overgrown oak tree.

“Let’s go over there,” I said.

All I could see was the whites of her eyes. “Do we have to?”

“If I’m going to prove to you that spirits don’t hang out by their graves then yes. Come on, you big baby. How can I take pictures if I don’t go by the graves?”

“You got dat zoom ting in your camera. You can take the pictures from here.”

“No, I can’t. I have to get up closer. It’s too dark out here.”

I proceeded to walk with my camera around my neck and with Trini clutching on to the back of my jacket. As I moved, Trini moved. As I took a step with my right foot, Trini took a step with her right foot. I felt like an Abbott and Costello vaudeville act.

“Trini, can you relinquish your hold on my jacket? You’re choking me.”

“Vallie, I ain’t letting go.”

I was beginning to gag. “I’m choking. You’re going to kill me.”

“Well, we in da right place if I do.”

I yanked away from her grip. ”Oh, so you’re a comedian. Well, if I die here, I’m coming back to haunt you.”

“Vallie, I sorry. I’m scared. What if we see a ghost?”

I sized her up and down. “You have nothing to worry about. They’ll never see you. You blend right in.”

Trini put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “Woman, are you sayin’ dat Trini is black as night?”

I shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Oh. So dat’s good. The ghosts won’t see me. Day only see you? Phew. I didn’t know dat.”

I let out a deep sigh and shook my head.

I continued on, with Trini hanging on for dear life, when I saw what appeared to be a haze of white mist floating past a grave? Did I want Trini to run? No, I didn’t, but at that point, it didn’t matter. Trini saw it too.

“Dear Jesus and Mary! Lord, help us. Vallie, did you see dat?”

“See what?” I casually asked.

“Vallie, you didn’t see dat ting of white floating by? Vallie, let’s get out of here. Der are too many dead people around here, and day not happy.”

I stopped to rebuke her statement, only to have her crash right into me. “Trini, will you give me a little room?”

She stared at me, spewing Island slang through her gritted teeth.

“I don’t need no bloodclot suckin’ the life out of me,” she gushed.

“Bloodclot?” I repeated. I was trying desperately not to laugh.

“Vallie, I tink dat dare are vampires around here. Girl, we best not be messin’ wit dem.”

“Trini, get a grip. You bet me that there were ghosts in graveyards, and I brought you here to prove that there aren’t.”

“But we just saw dat white ting float by.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you what. You stand near that grave, and I’ll take a picture. Then we’ll leave. Okay? Just one picture and we’re out of here.”

I could tell that she was thinking–I could see the whites of her eyes moving back and forth. “Just one picture?” she said.

“Yep, just one.”

“Promise?”

“Yep, I promise.”

“Okay, but let’s be quick about tit.”

I proceeded to manuever through the thick fog, mesmerized at how the moon’s glow turned the air into white streams that extended across the field. A cricket’s chirp echoed in the empty courtyard, and it made me sense how eerily quiet it was.

“Trini, you okay?” I whispered behind me.

“Vallie, let’s hurry,” she said.

“Okay, stand by the grave.”

She carefully walked to the grave while searching the air.

“Is this good?” she whispered loudly.

“A little more to your left,” I whispered back.

She inched over to her left. “How’s this?” she asked.

“A little more,” I said.

She was right next to the stone. “Is this good?”

“Yeah, that’s great. Could you rest your right hand on the top of the stone–to make it look good.”

“How’s this?” she asked.

“It’s good. Stand straight. You’re hunched over.”

“It’s dis damn bra, Vallie. I took a size smaller to hold me in. Can you tell?”

“I thought you looked smaller. That was a good idea. What brand did you buy?”

“I got me a Playtex Cross Your Heart, wireless. For big girls.”

She turned to her side to show me her profile.

“I don’t fit in Playtex bras,” I answered. “They’re uncomfortable for me?”

She waved a hand at me. “Vallie, I must have tried on a dozen bras and dis one was da only one wit support. I bought four of dem.”

“You know what brand I happen to like the best? I like Warner. Did you ever wear one?” I yelled to her.

“Ooh, girl, I love dem underpants. I just bought ten pair for seven dollars.”

I gasped. “You did? Where? I need some new underwear.”

“JCPenny. You want to go?”

“Yeah. We can go over the weekend. You doing anything?”

“Just got me some laundry but dat’s it. And maybe we can go to dat chocolate shop down on Picard? Oh, girl, I can’t wait.”

“I have a great chocolate recipe that I’m dying to try,” I said enthusiastically.

Then from nowhere, Trini belted out a roar of laughter.

“What?” I asked her.

“Vallie, tink about it. We standing in a graveyard talking about bras and chocolate.” 

I was still aiming my camera. “You see. It’s nice here. It’s really not as scary as what people make it out to be. Hold still while I take this shot.”

She smiled, showing off her big chicklit white teeth.

“Great! I got it.”

She started walking towards me. “I can’t wait to see da picture. You should put tit on your website.”

“And what would I put as the caption?”

She laughed. “I know. You can put like dem commercials do for pork.”

“For pork?” I repeated.

“Yeah, you know. You can say, ‘cemeteries, they not just for dead people anymore.”

I rolled my eyes. “Get in the car, you sick woman.”

Okay guys, I need you to please hear me out. I know Twitter started out as a hot commodity. It was just so groovy to post my thoughts and my whereabouts all week long. But can I tell you something? I don’t have the head to keep posting my thoughts and my whereabouts. It’s not that I don’t want you guys to know my whereabouts. It’s just that, well . . . do you really give a rat’s ass what I’m doing all day long? Does anyone really care about my bad hair day or that I’m meeting my gay friends for drinks? Or that I got my stiletto heal stuck in the metal groove on the escalator in the Menlo Park Mall? I don’t think so.
Why are we telling the world what we’re doing and who we’re with and what we want to aspire to when we grow up? I mean, really guys. Who has the time? But here’s what gets me.
We complain that the government knows too much of our business. We worry over identity theft. We’re afraid of being stalked. Hello? If you keep Twittering all day long, you can pretty much bet that your life is out there for the whole wide world to see.

Okay. I feel better. I just had to get this off my chest. Maybe I should have Tweeted this. Hmmm, not such a bad idea. Heck. What’s one more Tweet for the road?

Valentine deFrancis on Twitter