ghost writing part 2

Sometimes it sucks being so in tune with the Universe. Sometimes I try to ignore it, instead of paying attention to it. I attribute it to acupuncture and my Iroquois ancestors - a dangerous combination. When meridians are clear, and chi is humming merrily along, it is super easy for the Spirits to dial into the right frequency.

So in part 1, I wrote about the weird feeling I was getting around this year's November writing frenzy that was reminiscent of last year's Need to Write and the whole story (no pun intended...well, maybe) that caused it all, and how I didn't like it and couldn't understand it because I wasn't in the same situation as last year. However, almost as soon as I wrote that, I WAS in the same situation. The ghosts from last year were simply reappearing to let me know it was about to happen again.

Oddly, last year's ex sent me messages that essentially bookended my most recent... whatever-it-was (I'm not sure now what it was; can I even call it a "relationship?"). He sent me an e-mail just as I was getting into this most recent...thing (maybe I was a fling?), and he sent another one the very day I figured out I was being shut out. And no, I'm not getting back together with last year's ex, in case anyone was worried.

And then my grandfather showed up. My grandfather (who's been dead for 26 years) is usually the ringleader. At least, he's the one I sense most strongly. He's always looking out for us grandkids - he even got little Joe to sleep in his own room and not be afraid of the dark. He sat next to me when I had my first panic attacks, and I could have sworn he was sitting next to me a few nights ago while I was writing. He always sits on my left.

I had attributed all my worries and weird feelings to my usual habit of being too much in my head, coping with this time of year's lack of sunlight. I should really learn to trust my own guidance and warning systems more. They are almost always spot on. My apologies, Ancestors. I should have listened. It would have lessened the sting.

Irony of the story: fall is supposed to be my dominant and best season, according to my acupuncturist; but so far, this one really really sucks. Only the colors have been good.

NaNo word count: 9822 (nearly a fifth done!)