…negative energy clings

Caution: there will be negativity. But it’s not all my fault.

They say that burning White Sage to cleanse a space of negative energy is the way to go when bad juju attacks, but be warned – it can have unexpected consequences.

Did I mention that one of my housemates was evil?

Lets call her…hmmm…Angela, because that’s her name. Fuck you, Angela.

Warp back to last June – I’d just got back from the U.S, my heart shattered and life in apparent ruins (yeah you know the story blah blah blah boo hoo), and I needed to get in a roommate to replace me. So I panicked and said yes to the first ‘ok’ person that came along, settled her in, jumped on a plane, vanished for 6 months and forgot about Australia.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that things started to go awry – my other housemates moved out suddenly – one after the other, the new housemates rent suddenly became erratic and then stopped all together at times. Bills went unpaid. She was always “sorry, sorry sorry…but this happened…”

I’m sure you can see where this is going.

I got back in November and discovered the truth for myself.

Angela was more than slightly psycho. Apart from never paying rent or her share of the bills without being hounded, she appeared quite unstable, self absorbed and totally neurotic. A 38 year old woman who acts like a 15 year old and speaks like a 5th grader, with no licence, no job (she lied about having full time work), and no boundaries. She’d driven at least 2 housemates to leave and the third was about to bail as well.

Here’s a few examples;

We have to hide in our rooms or leave the house as noone wants use the shared space in the house as we are afraid of engaging with her insanity.

We’ve coined a term in the housemates group – the “Ange Rush”.

Here’s why. She lives in her darkened room like a cave troll, and only comes out when someone walks in the front door. She’ll fly out of her room and get in your grill and spew a meandering stream of unfiltered consciousness into your face before you can respond (or even sometimes put down your bag) and then sweep off again and slam her door. Leaving you stressed and slightly unsettled.

This is one of the latest rants that I documented in a message to a friend (and the one that finally caused me to kick her out) ;

“I take 5 steps inside the door and I get the “Ange Rush” – of course its rent day so her door flies open and before I can get to my room there’s 10 minutes of mindless babble about how she woke up with a migraine and was vomiting everywhere and had to be driven to the Doctor by her sister and the doctor gave her an injection to stop the vomiting and there was blood in it and blood is bad but she had a pregnancy test and she’s not pregnant and it could be thyroid issues cos she’s put on 30 kg since moving in here and might have to go on tablets and the doctor thinks it’s the incense I’m burning that’s making her so sick and no he didn’t say to cut down smoking why do you ask? but it’s not the cigarettes cos she’s cut down to 2 as of today and she usually sleeps with a towel rolled up under her door so can I stop burning the incense please and she hasn’t had a chance to put the rent in yet as she gets paid on Tuesdays and couldn’t get to the bank today as she was sick”

…and another.

J had a car accident yesterday, hit a kangaroo – front of her little white compact car all smashed in, broken glass and blood everywhere. After limping home in her ruined car, J parked in the driveway and was trying to clean up the mess, up to her elbows in tears and broken glass. Angela wanders out, walks up to J and announces that “in case you haven’t heard, Ive been kicked out, but don’t worry…I have somewhere to go”…and then walks off for a smoke. Not even a glimmer of concern for her housemate. Fuck you Angela.

…and another.

I came home from my Mums funeral a few weeks ago, still dressed in my funereal suit, dazed and slightly in shock – I walk up to the front steps of the house where I find Angela and her “boyfriend” having a discussion. Her eyes are brimming with tears. I walk between them with barely a “hey” and go inside. A few minutes later she dramatically runs into the kitchen where I’m staring out the window composing myself. “I just need to tell you that I’ve broken up with my boyfriend, I’m a bit upset but I’ll be ok”…sniff sniff sniff…cue the red watering eyes, and then dramatically sweeps off into her room.

“I’m sorry to hear that” I say to her as she slams her door. “Smart man” I think quietly to myself as I pour a four finger Jamesons.

…and another.

We’ve all been subjected to the Ange Rush and tried to escape into the toilet. Angela follows into the bathroom without even taking a breath and has to have the door closed in her face, while she still talks through the closed toilet door. She often will loiter at the toilet door and mindlessly chatter on while the other housemates are in the bathroom, having a shower, cleaning their teeth, or taking a dump.

…and another.

She hides in her room with the blinds down and a towel rolled up under her door (apparently) and only comes out when someone comes home, or after 1.30pm (presumably she wakes up then), or to have a cigarette out the front in the street, then it’s back watching DVDs all day in her room. Later at night she surfaces where shes eats a cooked meal around 9/10pm and then back into her room to watch DVDs.

She doesn’t seem to ever look for a job, ┬árarely leaves the houseand and just hoovers unemployment benefits down (but always has money for cigarettes).

If friends do come over, she inserts herself into the group conversation, overshares about her fucked up life within 2 minutes of meeting a stranger and then just dominates.

And she never shuts up.

Fast forward to last Tuesday – I’d had enough, the rent was not paid, so I gave her Notice – a letter of ‘Get The Fuck Out’. All legal like and according to NSW Tenancy law.

Since then it’s been passive aggressive tension Hell.

I’ve had to listen to her constantly bitch, moan and badmouth me to her friends, there have been outright threats and passive aggressive notes on the refrigerator (yes Ange I’d be happy to buy toilet paper, and take my computer off your corner unit). But I’ve remained above it and been super nice.

And the latest? My work car was ‘keyed’ on the weekend – scratched to shit all along one side. While parked in my driveway, while 4 other cars around it weren’t touched. Right next to where the troll smokes. Coincidence?

Are you still with me?

Now, I started burning White Sage in the house for about 3 days last weekend – using a smudge to slowly cleanse the house of negative energy EXCEPT for Anges room. On the third day, shes gets violently ill and starts spewing like a possessed Regan from the Exorcist. Every time now I burn the White Sage, she flies out of her room, rants and storms around the house “who’s burning shit…sniff sniff sniff”…and is throwing all the doors and windows open to get rid of the Smoke..

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Apparently the White Sage is working its magic slowly but surely.

Only 30 days to go.

Its a shit ton of evil though – maybe I’ll need a Priest.

haunted…part 1

So much weird stuff has been happening over the past weeks in the house here that I just have to tell you about it.
Where to start: lets set the scene.

I’m house-sitting for a friend of a friend who has gone back to Scotland for 3 months (yep I lucked out). She has this lovely little townhouse just out near Wat Ram Pong.  Its a nice secure  2 story 2 bedroom terrace house just a little ways out of town, one of half dozen or so all connected by common walls and roof spaces, in a nice little almost-gated community. Safe and quiet (yeah so was 112 Ocean Avenue, Amityville I hear you say)

Being slightly paranoid about security (occupational hazard),  I lock the front door by a solid metal latch on the inside when I go to bed as well as all the windows and the back door. The front door has the same kind of latch that I padlock with a dirty great padlock when I  leave the house.

So…safe as houses, right?

Maybe not.

Where am I going with this?

Lets go here: I haven’t slept well since leaving the U.S back in May (insomnia puts it mildly but its improving), and in the weeks I’ve been in the house here I wake up a lot. An awful lot. The usual things – odd noises, cats fighting, bumps and thumps and noises in the night. Usually it isn’t a huge issue as I read for a bit then go back to sleep.

Last week things got weird.

One rainy night after getting home from dinner, I went to bed earlyish. As the cleaner ( yep spoilt) had come that day the house was spotless so I carefully left my shoes at the door  (its customary here anyway). Climbed the 2 flights of darkened stairs to my room, closed the door and went to bed.

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Anyway I had the usual fitful night of tossing and turning and the usual waking up every few hours, but eventually I slept.

The next morning I awoke, grumpy, with the sun streaming into my room from the single unblocked -out window near my bed (the house owner has issues sleeping also and had put up black sheets of cardboard on the windows to block the sun).

Yawning like grumpy cat I stumbled out my door towards the bathroom and stopped :

There were footprints at my door!

Little, muddy barefoot footprints stopping right on the threshold of my bedroom door, and continuing on down the stair well. They were crystal clear .

“Shit. Ive been broken into” was my first thought so I grabbed my little K-bar pocketknife from the bedstand and checked the rooms on the way downstairs. I followed the dirty footprints down the stairs. each little print half the size of my clompy size 9.5’s. Everything looked fine – laptop, phone, bits and pieces – check. Nothing missing. And then I checked the front door.

Locked. Latched. From the inside.  Say what?

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RuhRoh – “Fuck – hes still here”.

K-bar in hand I checked the back door  (locked) , all the windows (locked and intact) , rooms (empty), under the beds (clown free), in the closets (nada). Nothing.

Just muddy kid sized footprints on the stairs in a house locked from the inside.

Rational mind kicked in – “Must have been me somehow”, or “maybe footprints from the cleaner that magically appeared after the floor was dry”. Yeah, that was it. Idiot.

The human mind is a wonderfully deceptive and creative thing. I managed to rationalise this weirdness away as something like that, and then put it out of my mind.

But since then, all the neighborhood dogs bark their heads off at me as I walk around. Even the cats avoid me now. It COULD just be my imagination.

Flash forward 3 days.

Same sleeplessness, odd noises at night and the usual tossing and turning. No more foot prints, but I get ready to head out for the day, gather my things, and head out the front door. Door wont open. Locked – from the OUTSIDE.

WTF? I checked the back. Same thing. Locked from the outside.

I couldn’t get out of the house! Locked in.

THAT freaked me out, and it took me a good 5 minutes to figure out how to take the screens off, put my hand through without cutting my wrists on the sharp aluminum framing, and open the outside latch to escape.

The shoe rack out front had been turned over, shoes everywhere. The 2 motorbikes out front had been rifled through, paper and plastic bags everywhere. But apart from the mess  – nothing.

OK…time to report in. MUST be thieves after all. I let the owner know, and my friend CB and they arranged to bring the housekeeper over to see if it had been her, or if she knew what was going on.

Jump forward to Wednesday afternoon.

A triumvirate of wise local women converge on the house, concerned about these happenings. After checking with the housekeeper and neighbors they came to the logical conclusion.  “A gang of thieves casing the place, right?”.

No.

I’m being haunted.

There is a playful but benign child spirit in the house, and it wants to play. This mischievous spirit is well known in the building and gets up to loads of trouble around the block. I hadn’t been formally introduced (as is the custom apparently) and this little poltergeist wanted to say ‘Hi’ and have some fun.

FML – of course. It all makes sense.

 

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The solution is easy – fix the little temple/alter out in the front yard (had been installed but neglected by a previous tenant), burn 9 incense sticks and put some of my favorite flowers in as an offering. Then just sit down quietly and have a little private greeting ceremony – introduce myself. Things would be ok!

Its easy to forget that spirits play such an important role in Asian society, like a favorite uncle just hanging is not a big deal. They embrace the concept completely and incorporate it into their lives as a matter of fact. Its a beautiful thing.

Westerners are so dismissive in relation to things like this, myself included. I WANT to believe in so many things, spirits and ghosts and suchness, but the scientific and so-called logical mind just wants to scoff and dismiss. I firmly believe there is more to the universe than what we can see or perceive at any level. There has to be.

But I am a total pussy when it comes to ghost stories. A complete sucker. Put me in a dark corridor at night alone and every creature and ghost Ive ever seen on the silver screen or TV is hiding in the shadows waiting just for me. Horror movies and ghost stories in particular freak the Hell out of me but I just cant get enough. 

I guess I believe in spirits at least as a form of indestructible energy in the universe.

Which would explain a lot.
THAT takes me into a discussion on religion (believe me no-one wants that to happen). I’m firmly an agnostic but jeez I’d love to be proved wrong. So where does that put me.  ­čÖé

So to be sure, I’m looking for some incense today and little Casper and I will have a get together this evening. I also might buy a few new padlocks today as well just in case.

NOW – this all ties into some more weirdness that I mentioned a while back…the Nepalese Raven episode from a few years back.

This just keeps getting weirder and weirder…

Part 2  and the raven tomorrow.