Friday, June 20, 2014

What Defines You?

Monday I sat in the ninth circle of hell, waiting for my number to be called so I could get the process of changing my name on my license over with. When my number was called I was ready to deal with the stereotypical right to business, monotone worker. Instead, I was greeted by a bubbly college student with long braids and an infectious smile. I sat down, and we started to go through the rigmarole of the process.

Then we got to the part where I had to confirm my personal information, including my race. The girl asked what I was and the screen gave me a list of options. I chose white and she asked the next question to clarify: was I white, Latino, or other?

“Well I guess white applies most in this situation even though I’m a mixture of Norwegian and Irish,” I stated.

She replied with a comment that is forever ingrained in my head, “You know I like that answer. It actually makes me uncomfortable when people answer ‘just white.’ No one is ‘just white,’ you know? I’m not ‘just black,’ I’m Jamaican.”

We sat there for a few minutes discussing the concept of race in general and how in actuality the questions that were posed really have no merit. Turned out this girl was actually studying sociology and was working here over the summer for some extra cash. She went on to talk about how working here was actually a great way to understand more about people and how they interact with each other and how they define themselves. She turned what is normally a teeth grinding experience into a thought-provoking one. A few days later I got into a similar discussion about race and how it really has no weight is defining a person.

I’ve talked before about how in the anthropological world, the world “race” isn’t used. Ethnic backgrounds and regional boundaries are used instead to group people. The discussion the other day was about how the color of your skin defines who you are and what your future generations will become. This of course is not true. Grouping people by the color of their skin is purely a social construct, mostly used by western culture (and adopted in some other cultures as well). The only thing that the color of your skin dictates is where your ancestors came from, even then there are varying skin tones within each ethnicity. Facial and body features are the same way; it’s all adaptation (as shown in the image above). We humans are made to evolve and adapt to our environment. I use my ancestor’s example since I have that perspective.

My skin is pale because my ancestors come from Norway and Ireland; both places are far from the equator and don’t get a lot of direct sunlight year round. My nose is long and pointy because both places have lower temperatures. The long, pointy nose filters cold air better. Point is neither of these things define me as a person; they are biological traits that were used to adapt to my ancestor’s environment that I inherited.

Problem with this logic is many people in western society don’t see people this way. They see a person and put them into a category based on their skin color because that’s the first thing they see. It is unfair, and in reality illogical. Calling all people with dark skin “African American” makes no sense since there are many people that have darker skin who are from the Islands, or even South America.

What really defines people is their heritage and who they have become in the present, not simple make up of melatonin or lack thereof. Still, we see that racism is rampant still today which is appalling to me. Of course it’s hard for me to grasp what it really feels like because unfortunately the color of my skin has entitled me to privileges that someone with darker skin never had. It’s a sad but true fact that we as a society need to understand but also try to educate people to move past and focus on what we all are: human with different backgrounds, appearances, and qualities that define who we are as people, not race.

Image Courtesy of http://antidarwinism.com/images/scelatalvariation.jpg

Friday, June 13, 2014

Giveaway Winner and Return to Summer's Hollow Preview

Thank you all who entered the giveaway and/or spread the word about it around social media. The names of all who entered were put into a cup and one name was drawn. The winner of my “Horror Care Package” is…

CATE GLEASON!

Congratulations, Cate! The package will be mailed to you and since most of its contents are a surprise, I would love for you to take a picture of it when you receive it! Also, as promised, I have a little preview of the next part in the Summer’s Hollow series. Enjoy a taste of my current writing project: Return to Summer’s Hollow.

Sweat glistened on Rylie as she took the steps two at a time up to her apartment. It was times like this she wished they didn’t live on the fourth floor. After a three mile run the last thing she needed was more exercise. Still, she trekked along until she reached her apartment where she resisted the urge to collapse on the floor as soon as she got in the door. Instead, she stretched out her tense muscles and then journeyed into the bathroom to rinse off.


Jake would be home in less than an hour to pick her up and she was far from ready. She quickly peeled off her sweat soaked clothes and turned on the shower. While she waited for the water to warm up she looked into the mirror. The little make-up that she had one before running was smeared on her face so she splashed it with water and blindly reached for the washcloth. She patted her face dry and turned back to the mirror.

There was a cracking sound that echoed around the small bathroom. Her eyes drifted to the mirror to see a crack in the glass. Its edges started to grow like a spider’s web but with precision. The cracks continued fast and curled into what appeared to be letters of some sort.

The steam from the shower was causing the mirror to fog up so she no longer saw her face but still could see the cracks. She was frozen in fear as the cracks stopped and spelled out the phrase: NEVER FORGET. Terror gripped her body and she closed her eyes hard then snapped them back open. The words were no longer there.

“Not again, not again…” she said breathlessly as she started to back up from the mirror.

A stench then filled the room that caused her to clamp her hand over her nose as she now whimpered in fear. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest but was deafened by the shower pressure growing as well as the sink turning on. Both her pulse and her breathing quickened as she looked around incredulously at the scene. There was no way she was dealing with this again. She shut her eyes again, her hand still over her nose, opened them up but the scene was still going on.

Then all of it stopped. The shower curtain though then started to move. Her breathing stopped all together as she saw a hand curl around the edge of the curtain. Her heart was in her throat as she spun around and reached for the door. As soon as her hand touched the doorknob her flesh sizzled and she withdrew it from the hot metal. “This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening,” she said over and over as she shut her eyes.

That’s when she was aware of a presence behind her. She felt cold breath on the back of her neck and she let out a blood curdling scream as she was pulled around to face her worst fear.

“No!” she screamed loudly as she snapped open her eyes.

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Friday the 13th Giveaway

It’s no shocker that Friday the 13th holds a special place in my heart. After all, it was on a Friday the 13th that I released Summer’s Hollow. The number 13 in general plays a big role in a lot of my stories, including Summer’s Hollow. In my next installment, Return to Summer’s Hollow, the number 13 plays an even bigger role and Rylie learns more about what that number really means to the town.

So in honor of this week’s Friday the 13th, I am doing a giveaway! The winner will win a “Horror Care Package” complete with some of my favorite horror books (including a signed copy of Summer’s Hollow) and some fun horror goodies. To enter, please comment below* about a weird superstition that you follow and why you follow it. Please include your email address in the comment so that you can be notified if you win. Each person will get one entry. You have until 12pm on Friday to enter, so spread the word! Winner will be drawn Friday afternoon. Good luck!


*If you are having trouble with blogger (I blame Mercury Rx) please leave your comment on my Facebook Author Page.

Friday, June 6, 2014

Attention to Detail

On Tuesday I posted about the emotions of the wedding: what I was feeling that day, etc. That is one aspect of what my wedding meant to me. As an anthropologist, I believe that weddings are all about bringing families together. Marrying for love is a very new concept; it used to be nothing more than a contract between two families for their children to marry one another for social, economic, and political reasons.

Cynical as that may be, I still think that. Of course I love Grant unconditionally but if it were just about us then I would’ve just had a small, private ceremony. This wedding was about our friends and family becoming one to celebrate our union. This meant that I incorporated a lot of details from friends and family that had personal, historical, or symbolic meaning.

First it’s important to point out that we got married in a church. Neither of us identify as Christian but it is a church that I adore, and a Pastor who I have the utmost respect for. The ceremony itself was very short (under 20 minutes) and it wasn’t too heavily religious. It was just the right mix of everything we wanted.

The reception took place at the Elkridge Furnace Inn: a historic manor house that played a role in the civil war (including part of the underground railroad). We had a tent outback so that guests had a view of the garden and of the river.

The history and beauty of the place was heightened by the gorgeous Spring day. The history didn’t stop there. As I mentioned before, our wedding was all about the melding of the different families. We incorporated a lot of different historical and personal items from various family members and friends. Below is the list of those items:

- Toasting Glasses: My parent’s that they used from their wedding, bearing a green stem and a Celtic knot
- Cake Topper: Bells from my parent’s wedding
- Engagement Ring: My mother-in-law’s grandmother’s ring from Germany
- Pendant: My Bestemor’s (Grandmother in Norwegian) opal
- My garter: My something blue with a Penn State logo, made by the lovely Renee over at Sosanna’s Closet

All of these things were essential, and though most people would not know the meaning behind them, it meant the world to me. The fact that we could incorporate all these different items really felt like a mix of all the great things in our families. Little details and rituals like this were important in capturing the true meaning of our union.

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

A Pagan and an Agnostic Walk into a Church…


Sounds like the start to a bad joke doesn’t it? Actually, it’s sort of the tagline for these past two weeks because, drum roll please, I got married! Looking back on it now, it went by in such a blur. There were hiccups along the way but overall it was such a magical day that I will remember for the rest of my life.

When I was a girl I never thought about what my wedding would be like and even when I started dating Grant, I never really thought far ahead of what the “perfect” ceremony and reception would be. We had a short Lutheran ceremony in my Grandparent’s church (where I am also still a member) followed by a brunch reception at a local historical mansion house. We had gorgeous weather, amazing company, and delectable food.

My emotions were running very high that day. I am not a crier; unless there’s something incredibly tragic, I don’t cry. On the day of my wedding I cried perhaps more than I have in my life. It started with the walk down the aisle. Many of you know that my father has been sick; up until a few months ago he could barely walk. The fact that my Dad could not only be healthy enough to attend my wedding, but to walk me down the aisle and participate in the father/daughter dance, brought tears to my eyes. These tears lasted all the way down the aisle. I was quite the blubbering mess when I arrived at the altar.

The ceremony itself as was so surreal. As we stood up there, reading our vows to each other (pictured below) it felt like we were the only people in there (clichéd, I know). When the Pastor told us to “Kiss and Embrace,” we even both paused, not hearing him and not realizing we were that far along in the ceremony. However, it goes well with me not hearing Grant’s proposal. Our awkwardness continued throughout that day but hey, it’s us.

The reception was also a blur. It was amazing to see so many people that I love and care about gathering in one place to celebrate our special day. That also brought tears to my eyes. Then toasts started and yeah, I lost it both during the Maid of Honor and Best Man toast. Seriously, that day turned my cynical heart into such a mushy mess.

The honeymoon was heavenly. It took me about a day to get used to the fact that I had nothing to do but relax and enjoy the lake. We hiked a little, laid out in the sun a little, and just enjoyed the first few days of marriage. After that we returned home to our house. Last weekend we spent umpteen hours moving boxes, wedding presents, furniture, and all the rest of our worldly possession into our new home. We’re still in the process of settling in but of course I have the kitchen completely unpacked and have already made some wonderful dishes.

My life has started a new chapter. I am still the same witty, nerdy, dark, and sarcastic Sam but with a different last name (though I will be keeping Samantha Curtin for Author, Blog, and Non-personal Social Media Purposes). I’m looking forward to this summer where we get to enjoy our new house, our new marriage, and our new life together.

First picture courtesy of our wedding photographer, Jessica Eastburn.

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Atavism and Affinity

Technology has been both our curse and our gift. Information can now be at record speed; you can communicate with people in ways you could never before and records can be kept a lot easier. On the flipside books are starting to become obsolete (which as a writer really saddens me), newspapers and other news sources aside from websites are becoming less popular, and people are communicating more, but actually interacting less. The latter part then brings me to the first word in the title of this post: Atavism.

Now for those of you who don’t know, atavism is another word for regression. With technology we are regressing as a species even though as a society we seem to be progressing. Our speech, how we spell things, grammar and even non-existent words have been on the decline since the introduction of these technologies. My go to example for this phenomenon happens to come from a movie. I actually don’t like this very much as a movie, but as an anthropological study is ingenious. I’m talking of course about 2001: A Space Odyssey. The whole concept of this movie is evolution both of man and of technology. The movie starts out with a bunch of apes circling around this monolith that shows up. The apes are confused, grunting at each other, and trying to communicate what is going on but it is hard since they have yet to develop speech.

Then the movie fast forwards to 2001 (which for a movie that was made in 1968 is the distant future) where technology has overtaken man. It becomes a race between man and computer to obtain this very same monolith that now is on the moon. In the process, man has become cut off from other men due to the computers. This movie then shows a regression back to the days where men were still apes trying to grunt to speak with each other but instead of speech being the issue technology is. This of course leads us to the next word: Affinity.

What is affinity you ask? Put simply, it is connection between two or more individuals; connection that we are now losing because of technology. Now with texting, emailing, Facebook, twitter and all the other social media devices we don’t ever have to actually see a person to correspond with them. In fact I have been equally guilty of this as anyone. Technology has made us impersonal.

There is however another side to this affinity. Technology has actually helped us connect better in some cases than we ever could before, with people we would never have met if it wasn’t for that. The greatest example is twitter (since you all know that I am a twitter addict). For me twitter is a place that I have met tons of people who live all around the world that have my same interests. These are people who I would’ve never had the chance to meet before twitter and other social media. Even this very blog couldn’t be produced without the aid of technology.

So am I telling you to get rid of all technology? No of course not; gods know I couldn’t survive without it. What I’m hoping is that this will make you think about it more and use other avenues than strictly technological ones to communicate, gather information, read, etc. There needs to be a balance like in everything else, balance that the auditor was severely lacking the other day. Now we have come full circle in this little saga here which as you know always continues and will never reach a stopping point just as technological advances will also.

Friday, April 25, 2014

House Hunting and Spirit Encounters

Life has gotten insanely crazy lately. On top of the wedding planning, school, and work, these past few months we’ve been house hunting. When we first started looking it was quite fun to search online to see what we could afford, what neighborhoods were best, what areas would work for both of our commutes, and so on. We found an awesome realtor who quickly started showing us around to homes in different areas of central Maryland.

To say it was tiring is an understatement. For the month of March and beginning of April it seemed like every night after work we were journeying around to all different homes. We fought bad traffic, bad weather, sketchy neighborhoods, and pushy realtors. That in itself was exhausting but when we started I didn’t really think of the other aspect to it: the psychic aspect of house hunting.

It’s no secret that since I was young I see spirits everywhere. The different places I’ve lived in and visited have left me with a bank of stories that I could fill a book with (and one day am planning on it). Just in these past months alone I’ve had more encounters than I do around Samhain (which since the veil is thin I have the most encounters around). That is what happens when you’re going into other people’s homes, especially the older homes.

At first it didn’t really cross my mind so I didn’t “prepare” at all to go into these other people’s houses that were full of history and in many cases spirits. One of the first houses we went into was built in the 70s. It had the very stereotypical colors, wood paneling, and even had a wet bar with a fish tank in it. Clearly it also had some memories/people that had hung around from that era as well, because as soon as I walked into the basement I felt like there were people staring at me. It made the hair on my arms stand up. It wasn’t necessarily a menacing stare, but eyes were definitely watching me. That’s when I realized that the next time I went into a house I was going to make sure my protection shields were up.

This first house I actually liked despite whoever/whatever was in that basement. The second house I did not. Not only did the street it was on not appeal to me, and the steps down to the basement worry that I would tumble down, but there was something in that house that didn’t want us there. After about five minutes we left; there was no way that I was going to stay in there.

The next few houses I had a mix of emotions/encounters in. There were a couple that I felt nothing at all (just didn’t like the house), some that there was definitely a presence but a non-threatening one, and others that felt like pure evil. Two in particular I remember very clearly; they were in the same neighborhood.

The first one was one that definitely had something non-human. It was a house that a married couple with three kids had renovated but hadn’t quite finished it. The basement was half finished and the bathroom looked like it was hodgepodged together with whatever cheap fixtures they could find. Also in that basement was a heaviness that caused me to have trouble breathing and my heart to race. This culminated in something that I saw in the unfinished, dirty shower of that basement bathroom. It was a strange, short figure that was sort of hunched over by where the faucet of the bathtub should be. It appeared humanoid but the proportions seemed off somehow, like the head was too big for its small body. At first my curiosity got the best of me and I peered in more to get a good look at it. That’s when I heard a strange hissing in my ear. That’s also when I rushed out of there. Our realtor could sense something was wrong and I explained to him that there was something in that basement and I never wanted to go into that house again (which as usual Grant sort of rolled his eyes at).

The second one that I remember distinctively was an old Cape Cod that was built in the 60s. It had a small first floor, basement, and the attic was converted into two small bedrooms. The basement was nicely furnished and nothing seemed off about it. The kitchen was nice and big and the upstairs attic bedrooms were also pretty spacious despite the low ceiling. It was up there though that something touched me. It was nothing antagonizing, just a playful tug on my arm. In fact part of me found it endearing, almost as if I child wanted me to play with him/her. The attic was painted white and the sun streamed in and I imagined children playing up there; it made me smile. In the end though that house just didn’t work for us since there was only one bathroom and a lot of it needed to be renovated.

So our house hunting continued. Some houses I liked, others I felt bad things after I stepped over the threshold that sent me right back out. Then about three weeks ago we found it: the perfect house, in the perfect neighborhood, with the perfect vibes. In the kitchen I felt a presence but it was warm and inviting as if it wanted us to live there. The bedrooms were perfect sizes, the backyard was huge, and the garage could fit both our cars and Grant’s motorcycle. All in all it gave off that feeling that we belonged here and that whatever spirit(s) were in that house were welcoming ones. Long story short, we will be moving into that house at the beginning of June after we get back from our honeymoon.

What this draining experience has taught me is that you never know what you’re walking into when you’re entering other people’s homes. They can be great but can also be full of horrors as well. It’s very possible though that the horrors were never seen by the families living there. For me whenever I go into an area with spirits, they like to come out and make their presence known to me. It is my hope that the entities in our new home will grow with us and become part of our home just as we will become part of theirs.


Image from: http://www.thealmightyguru.com/Halloween/Monsters/Images/HauntedHouse1.jpg