Captivated by the legends of the undead.

Listening to Godsmack's "Vampires". Great little composite piece with no vocals save some guy--sounds like someone off a radio or old time television program--talking about the legends of the undead; what interests humans so about vampires.

I realized something yesterday with a shock quite like a lightening strike--that I'm not going to be happy with a normal life. I may convince myself, if I fail, that I am happy, but I really will not be. I am a writer and, above all, I want and need to write. I have extremely high expectations of myself--that I will be part of those 3% of writers that are actually able to support themselves with writing alone.

To me life is not about owning a house, or marrying and having children, or how much jewelry I have or fancy new gadgets I acquire. Life is about fulfilling my deepest desire--which is to go into a bookstore and see dozens of books on the shelf that are written by me. To speak to people about my writing and share my world. I have more books inside my head even now--at eighteen--that I could not write them all down in one lifetime. I'm fascinated with the paranormal and it's correlation into the sociological and psychological aspects of human beings. My stories are not just about vampires, werewolves, druids, gods, demons, immortals; they are about the human condition. What we find in life versus what we crave.

I'm not going to be happy, really happy, unless that is my life. The only alternative I could think would be if some dimensional portal opened up and I was actually drawn into my world--which would take some adjusting, but I'd be ridiculously happy there, as well. Just a fantasy.

Speaking in real life terms; I want to be a writer. I want to look around and be able to say, "All of this is from the words that I weave together, gifts from my head and from my heart and my soul."

Sounds a little cliché, I know, but it’s what I want.

I expect to be a highly successful writer. I will be satisfied with nothing less.

One thing I’ve noticed about all of my heroes and heroines is that, they have all experience an inordinate amount of pain. They have lost family, friends; they have personally gone through nightmares themselves—physical, mental and sexual abuse. I realized this the other day when I was in a counseling session, and this is why.

I’ve never met an interesting person who has not had some great tragedy befall them.

I keep hearing from people, on all sides, that I’m too wise, too smart, too mature for my age. There’s a reason for that. I’ve gone through a lot of hardships and a lot of tragedies my entire life. It has only recently began to calm down, for the first time, really, in all of my existence. This has been a time of tremendous emotional growth for me, because I realized that I had to learn from all of these experiences or have them all befall me once again. I’ve self-analyzed myself; put myself under and emotional microscope, tracked most of my motions, actions, feelings and wondered why, and come up with general explanations. This work is never finished. I’ve psycho-analyzed friends and family—as well as people I meet in a general day-to-day occurrence. I’m critical and sometimes cruel, but generally correct. The only way in which I will deal with a regular person is to ‘observe’ them, much as a scientist would in a laboratory—except this is the lab of my mind and the world that I am doing the experiments in.

I’ve been told that I’m a passive manipulator and that I’m generally dangerous (this was from a psychologist who analyzed me when I went to Juvenile hall for nine days when I was fourteen). Not because I was violent or criminal, but because I was so smart. She said that I had to be careful because I could too easily influence the minds of others. I have found this, though experimentation, to be generally true.

I consider myself an old soul in a young body. My insides have experienced things that my outside does not reflect—aside from looking older then your average eighteen year old (an effect of stress, so I’m told).

I’m a bit arrogant, a bit self-critical. I have the highest expectations of myself and I do not allow myself to feel pity for my past situations. I am very happy to be the person that I am today. I consider myself SO very ahead of the game. Where others my age will spend the next few years doing a variety of unmentionable idiocies, I will try to make my mistakes more rational then impulsive. I understand that I am imperfect and subject to all sorts of nastiness, but I will try to avoid it. What the last eighteen years has taught me is enough to fill an entire book. Which, eventually, it will be.

Maggio il vostro amore di luce non penetrare l'oscurità della notte,

-Lady Teigra-

Godsmack
“Vampires”

(Sounds much better then it reads)

No creatures of the night have captured our imagination like vampires.
What explains our enduring fascination with vampires?
What is it about the vampire myth that explains our interest?
Is it the overtones of sexual lust, power and control?
Or is it a fascination with the immortality of the undead.
What dark and hidden parts of our psyche are aroused and captivated by the legends of the undead?
The mystery of the undead will continue to fascinate the living.