Writing Challenge – Causal Dating

Writing Challenge from Fearful Fitful Phantasmal

Summary of Autopsy Findings:

  1. Victim is 5’9″ with hazel eyes and brown hair. Caucasian. Approximately 190 lbs. 38 years of age with no remarkable features.
  2. Victim has deep lacerations covering back. Wounds suggest large knives were used. Lacerations are different size and penetration, suggesting multiple knifes.
  3. Blood loss suggests all wounds suffered pre-mortem.
  4. Victim has a dark contusion around neck, suggesting he was hanged for a period of time. Burst blood vessels in eyes confirm asphyxiation and trauma from hanging, but also not fatal. It appears, from the varying patterns of the contusion, he was hanged repeatedly, and probably lost consciousness.
  5. Contents of the stomach: semi-digested pizza and beer with trace amounts of Xanax. Based on digestion, victim would have eaten approximately 3 hours prior to death. Contents also included the victim’s testicles, undigested. It appears they were eaten less than an hour before death.
  6. The victim’s genitalia was severed. The penis was forcefully inserted in victim’s rectum. The wound and bleeding show this occurred before death. The wound pattern shows it was a serrated knife and severe trauma indicates the penis and scrotum were removed after several tries leading to an almost hacking wound pattern.
  7. Cause of death: self inflicted gunshot wound to the head. GSR present on hands, skin, and clothing. Angle of bullet and trauma confirm victim shot himself.

Detectives Notes:

  1. Victim is Jason Styburn. 38 years old. No immediate family or connections. Body was discovered by landlord approximately 24 hours postmortem. Landlord was coming to collect overdue rent and found the body and called it in.
  2. Rigor mortis suggested victim had been dead for at least one day. Landlord unaware of any connections, said victim “kept to himself, never brought anyone home, rarely talked, but did seem to go out at all hours of the night.”
  3. Search of phone records showed thousands of texts to different numbers. Texts suggest relationships and dating, often with victim barely responding and all ending with an agreement for another date.
  4. Most recent text thread, with over 3,000 text messages were to Alison O’Neill. According to phone records, she is the last person to see Styburn alive
  5. Suspect is female, 40 years old, no police record. According to phone records, she and Styburn were getting pizza. Conversations in text suggest an ongoing relationship. Landlord confirmed he had never seen her before.
  6. Search of phone numbers have revealed connection to missing person cases – all female.
  7. All missing persons have similar profile: new in town, active online dating profiles, brunette, aged 38-45.
  8. Search of suspects’ home revealed:
    1. Pictures of her and Styburn
    2. Love letters from Styburn
    3. A note written in (victim’s confirmed) blood: “Please love me again”
    4. Private journal with details of relationship with Styburn
  9. Suspect’s Phone revealed ongoing complaints from her to coworker about feeling she is being stalked, and seeking advice to feel safe.
  10. Possible Vigilante situation?

Verdict:

  1. We the people find Alison O’Neill not guilty of the murder of Jason Styburn

News Headlines:

  1. Heroic “Black Widow” not guilty of all charges!
  2. Serial Killers beware, Black Widow is Not Guilty!
  3. Most Absurd Trial Ever: He Kills Them, She Kills Him, She is Free
  4. Dexter – Move Over, Black Widow Released

 

I Am Santa Claus

 

My oldest is 11 years old. I knew last year the clock was ticking on his belief in the Big Red Man. I’ve heard so many parents say once kids stop believing, the magic dies. Last year, I began asking why we lie to kids about Santa. Why do we concoct this huge story just to ultimately tell them, “Actually that’s not true. Enjoy your shattered dreams” (maybe that’s dramatic).

I wrote here about changing my attitude with Christmas. I had lost the magic of Christmas myself because I viewed it as a consumer-driven burden. A part of this feeling was: I’m setting my kids up for this huge disappointment! One day, I have to sit down and tell them Santa isn’t real?

I’m not saying I’ve mused on this for a year straight, but it has been on my mind. I knew this would be the last year my oldest would buy the Santa story, if at all. I went for a long drive a couple days ago, because I was overwhelmed with people (read: my family haha) and I just needed time to not think. With some loud metal and the open road, I figured I could clear my head and figure this all out.

The solution dawned on me in everything I was doing already. It’s simple and I don’t understand why I wasn’t seeing it. I am Santa Claus. Santa is the metaphor of goodness, kindness, generosity, and love. We invented a magical story to capture children’s imagination and wonder, but the true magic is in the truth. Every year, their father and I bust our butts to create magic. That’s not even Christmas, that’s every day.

We don’t need a fat guy in a red suit to be magical.

mag·ic
ˈmajik/
noun

 

1.
the power of apparently influencing the course of events by using mysterious or supernatural forces.

Is there any force more supernatural than love? I’m not talking about the stupid crap we are sold in movies and everything. I am talking about action. Doing what needs to be done and transcending your own ego to care for others. Thinking inside the box of our ego is our natural instinct. Supernatural is love and compassion.

I kept thinking I had to come up with a way to “make up” for killing Santa Claus to my kid or lying to him, or whatever. I view everything in this world as energy. Energy cannot be destroyed. If I talk to my child, I can transfer his belief in a magic that does not exist as presented into the magic that exists in every moment of every day. I believe my kids are wiser than I am, as it is. I did not want to avoid the conversation, and I wanted to sublimate the energy of his beliefs. To me, he could either doubt everything remotely magical, or I can teach him to see the magic in every moment.

We told my oldest that we are Santa Claus. That his grandparents, aunts, uncles, and everyone in his life are Santa Claus. We explained the story is not true – there is no one at the North Pole, but we tell that story to teach little kids the magic of Christmas – the magic of love, kindness, generosity, and gratitude. Since he is a big kid now, he’s old enough to hear the real, true magic. Santa Claus lives in each one of us – in our hearts, not the North Pole. If he thinks back on all his Christmases, that was Mommy and Daddy making magic. Magic is very, very real, and we don’t need a special person. We are all able to create magic – even if it is a hug, a smile, or any kindness.

We welcomed him to our Santa Claus club and told him he is Santa Claus now, too. He has to keep the secret of Santa until his brother and sister are old enough to join the real club. We invited him to stay up late with us on Christmas Eve and be Santa with us.

My son was smiling. “I am Santa Claus?”

“Yep, buddy. Every person you meet is Santa Claus – some just don’t know it yet!”

We showed him some of the gifts his brother and sister are getting, and we emphasized that he’s a big boy, and this is a HUGE responsibility and we’re trusting him to keep the secret. It’s part of being in the club.

He just kept saying, “I am Santa Claus!”

It’s a pretty cool way to teach magic. I couldn’t kill his magic. I want him to see he is magic. It was nice to learn it myself. You get older, you get dumber. So grateful for my wise little man teaching me to be a wise old woman. Instead of seeing $$ signs, I’m seeing the magic of being the magic – in every way.

Ho! Ho! Ho!

Merry Christmas, Everyone! Thank you so much for reading. How have you handled the Santa Claus situation? Maybe this inspires a few convos!! Thank you for liking, commenting, and sharing my writing! 

The Nightmare Before Christmas

One of the musings I wanted to do with this blog is my bizarre takes on music and movies/entertainment. I do not believe any fiction is pure fiction; everything is a metaphor. The beauty of fiction is you can interpret the metaphor however you’d like. Our beautiful lies – one meaning – is the definition of a metaphor. Is that not what fiction is? Today, especially since we are a week from Christmas, I thought I’d write on one of my favorite movies and some of the metaphors I’ve found for myself.

One of my favorite movies of all time is The Nightmare Before Christmas. Why? I’m an overgrown child, I love Tim Burton and Jack Skellington. I have probably watched this movie 300 times now. As a matter of fact, as I’m (barely) preparing for Christmas, it’s the only Christmas movie I’ve watched.

download (9)

Look at it as Jack trying to understand his role in life. Here he is the Halloween King, but he feels unfulfilled. He feels as though he does the same damn thing every day. Then, he finds this new, happy world. He feels a new feeling he has never felt before, and he feels “Just like his old boney self again” (I want everyone to know, full disclosure, any quotation will be from direct memory because I am that much of a dork) As he tries to understand Christmas more, he studies it, he “knows the stories, and he knows the rhymes…he knows the Christmas carols all by heart…his skull is so full it’s tearing him apart..!”

I don’t care that he’s a clay puppet, I have never resonated with a character more in my life. Jack and Sally have always felt like me talking to myself. Ultimately, Jack tries to be what he is not – Sandy Claws – and blows shit up. That’s been my life. Even studying as much as I have – I have read spiritual books, blogs, etc. yet nothing made sense. “What is this?” indeed. I have listened to probably every Alan Watts seminar, and from there I have ventured into philosophy as a whole. Reading psychology books to understand the alphabet soup of my diagnoses help me see, I suppose, I’m not alone, but I still felt as though I did not belong. I look around and I see a Halloween-town world, and me wishing I could just…get…it.

I’ve had so many moments where my world is metaphorically in flames, and I’m sitting there with my head in my hands wondering what I’ve done. Again. How in the hell is it so hard to be happy? You watch Jack trying to explain Christmas to the Halloweentown people, and they make Christmas into their Halloween version. They’re all happy just following his lead, but he knows he’s not even happy.

Jack Skellington helped me understand the great Tao.

How did Jack become happy? He stopped trying to be Santa Claus, he stopped studying Christmas, he stopped trying to Christmas, and he realized, he IS the Pumpkin King. He realized he wasn’t happy because he was too busy focusing on being miserable, saying he did not have this, did not have that, and seeing his life as a neverending chore. The harder he fought to understand “that special kind of feeling in Christmas-town” the less he understood. This is exactly how Taoism is explained. This is actually how almost any religion is explained. You cannot actually intellectually understand things like faith, belief, or God. I mean, honestly, how do you even understand Santa Claus?

“Just because I cannot see it doesn’t mean I can’t believe it!”

We use Santa as a metaphor to explain kindness, generosity, and really – magic. (Then we basically tell our children we lied, and let them lose faith in magic, but that’s another post…) These are words, though. Symbols. Representations. In truth, words are metaphors of knowledge and information. Much of our lives exist outside the realm of tangible concepts. I can show you 1+1 = 2 and I can explain it in words. Kindness and love, however, are best put in metaphors, stories, and even best: example. I can wrap my arms around you in a hug, and that’s all you need.

Jack realized after he ruined Christmas (experiential learning – not studying), he’s not Santa Claus, he had to be himself. He gained a new appreciation for who he was, and a new perspective on his life. The metaphor of the great Tao is water, as God, Tao, etc. none of these can be put in words. Jack realized he can’t study Christmas, he just has to be that feeling. Isn’t that what everything teaches you? You can’t study happiness, you have to choose happiness. You can study methods of happiness or practices that support happiness, much like you can smash a bat and turn it into a hat. You can create all the accoutrements of Christmas, but it will not be Christmas unless you are it.

images (18)

After all the studying I’ve done, re-watching my favorite movie as a kid made me figure it out. Irony! Yet that is how it all works. You cannot think your way out of a problem, we just think we can. The more you think, the harder it is, to be perfectly honest. This is why meditation, contemplation, and other practices are important. What is most important, however, is being true to yourself. Don’t act like Buddha, or act like Santa Claus. It’s far more important to find what sets you on fire and do that. If it’s overanalyzing children’s movies to understand the Tao, hey man, whatever works.

Inspiration alights in a child’s wondrous eyes.

Then, you have the iconic image of Jack and Sally falling in love on the hill in front of the moon. Once Jack gets his head out of his ass and sees the woman who loves him right in front of his eyes, that he has been surrounded by everything all along, life is pretty cool, right? Nothing actually changed, did it? Jack changed his attitude, everyone else stayed the same.

25488983_1892049067776455_714701144_n

The first two tattoos I got were Jack and Sally on my wrists.  I got my first tattoos about a month after I started writing as a Memento-esque tribute to myself. They were a mile marker of me realizing my bullshit, writing about my bullshit, and in many ways, killing off my own Oogie Boogie (my bugs! my bugs!) if you will. I chose the placements specifically because, on my left wrist, I used to cut myself. When I was feeling particularly crappy, I liked to stare at my scars and ruminate. Time has marched on, and those scars are all but invisible to anyone but me and my memory. Now, I have Jack’s smiling face and “Smile Now” looking at me on my wrist. On my right wrist, I have Sally looking sad, saying “Cry Later”.  That’s my harmony. There’s no time for ruminating on my old scars, but it’s okay to be sad. It was the first metaphor I created from my favorite movie.

This is why metaphors are important, to me. Every time I revisit a story I love, I find new inspiration. When I was a little girl, I fell in love with the story. As I’ve grown older, I use stories to help me become my own story. The greatest mistake anyone can make, in my mind, is handing the pen of your life to someone else. That includes spiritually too, for words are a copy of reality – a metaphor. They transfer knowledge, they are not the knowledge. Inspiration and interpretation are your gifts alone, as only you possess your mind. Mine, apparently, finds the Tao in Halloween town.

a15081257e0a54c72c08e1d28abaa189

…and I just can’t wait until next Halloween, cause I’ve got some new ideas that will really make them scream!

Thank you for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts – any other metaphors? Any movies that have really inspired you throughout your whole life? I appreciate your likes, comments, and shares so much! This was an absolute blast to put together, although I was questioning my sanity pretty good. hahahaha 🙂