Ghostly Feelings

What do I mean by Ghostly Feelings?

I mean the little flashbacks, the memories, the odd feeling that brings you back to a certain moment of your life. I mean seeing someone next to you when you know they aren't really there! I mean seeing something which isn't right in front of you... That one feeling you cannot fully describe but know is around, still cannot explain it to anyone who wants to understand what you are going through.

I personally couldn't get away from the feeling when my friends from Europe came to Santa Barbara back in November 2017. That year wasn't easy for me, between searching a new place to stay, starting two jobs, juggling bars, and work, personal time as well as friend time. Editing a novel and trying to keep track of my blog. The list could go on but I believe you know where I'm going with it.
So when I see friends, meet people from Europe in California, I feel like "home" again, I feel like I'm with real people, real friends. I can't think of anything bad to say about them except my friends... They didn't stay as long I would have hoped so, as they do have their lives back in either London or Edinburgh. Yes, Britain and Scotland, far away land... Still "home" to me because as a European, I know that no matter where I go in Europe, I will feel like "home". Our views on life and what is respectable as a society is the same, we all can relate, our education, our role in society. In the States, everyone has a different perspective on life, different laws from state to state, so when someone from Europe come, they don't relate to anyone.

Point made, my ghostly feeling, at the moment is concerning my friends, the ones who left back home. Sounds pathetic and yet, I cannot help myself have this feeling. I cannot help myself think about every piece of memory I have with them. It's like a missing feeling.

Here are some thoughts about the feeling...

Material things become important!
I ain't-a material person, I wouldn't mind not having a bed (I've done it before, I have indeed slept on a mattress and nothing more, it works well enough), but when it comes to memories... There's a whole new story to write. I have a bench, a simple, bus bench along side of the main street of Santa Barbara. A simple bench that holds long nights talks, long conversations about everything and anything. Sounds like nothing to many of you, but when these conversations went deeper than just small talks, you become aware of everything, little as it may sound or look. Each time I pass by that bench, everything comes to mind, little or not.
A pack of cigarettes in my bag just to remind me of a certain thing...

Every sad song or movie coming up will be a reminder...
When we are sad, we tend to push ourselves closer to sad songs, dramatic movies, things that will make us cry. It's human of us, instead of watching a comedy or listening to happy songs, we just pull ourselves to everything sad, similar to what we are feeling at that moment.

You go to places and all the sudden you think of them...
I have two bars where I still see them around playing pool, drinking old fashions, or smoking cigarettes outside on the patio. I still see my friend getting along with my bartender, the one who hates everyone. Go figure, my bartender finally approved of one guy, and that same guy had to leave. Deep down I know he wasn't fully accepting him, the day he will accept a guy it will be snowy in downtown Santa Barbara.

Think about other people? Forget about it...
Not as easy to do when all you can think of is their voices in the background. Yes, when I'm around in my bar, I still look for a sign that they are around, still looking for another Guinness next to mine (despite the fact that some of my friends do drink the same thing I do). 

Not sure how to describe such a feeling without explaining my own experiences, my own thoughts on the subject. Not entirely sure how to express myself without pouring my feelings down, without crying on my keyboard, on the book which currently sits on my laps. You have to feel it yourself before understanding where I'm coming, but if you have indeed come across such a feeling, just know you are far from alone in this situation. Tricky situation. I know the pain of not putting words into my feelings, so if you are having issues with it, talk to someone! 


"Ghost
It happens. they forget the sound of your voice, the shape of
your eyes, and the curve of your smile. When you left, you
tried to leave traces of yourself behind. But your smell on their
sweater eventually fades, and your things in their drawers get
pushed to the back, and suddenly you aren't real anymore.
So you are replaced with someone who is. You are a ghost, a
shadow, only a memory. So much that you wonder if you even
existed to them at all." - Courtney Peppernell

~Bella

Feckin'...

Let's just start saying, I was unaware of what my dear friend from Europe, has sent me over mail.

I didn't expect anything either so when I arrived home from work, late at night, the package came in as a surprise. 

Now, my friends know how much I adore my books, and if they do come across an interesting one, they will get it for me one way or another. Sadly, they do not live in the States, and despite the fact that we still in contact with each other, it is difficult at times. So when I saw the package, I got beyond excited, more than usual. 

First, my love of books cannot be described, and when I saw what was in the package, I flipped out. Second, I wasn't expecting what I saw... A little book of Irish slang. Not sure why they ended up sending me such a book, but I couldn't hold a laugh or two. 

As you may expect, I started reading the little book, which ended up making me laugh my ass off. 

 I came across some funny and unexpected terms which I personally never heard of or some that Americans do not use at all.

Bowsie, noun, a person (esp. male) of very disreputable character. A useless good-for-nothing. 

" Is there anyone I could personally date who isn't a bowsie?"

Craic, noun, pronounced crack,  fun. 

"I had such a craic on Paddy's Day. 

(Funny note is the fact that there was indeed some misunderstanding between foreigners who were trying to buy illegal drugs. You have to be careful about where you are going and what your words or phrases mean.)

Eejit, noun, a person of limited mental capacity. A fool of a sort. A complete moron, imbecile. 

Feck, verb or/ and noun, the politically correct term of f**k. 

" Feck off with your ideas, they aren't worth it." 

To be honest, it's rare that I say it, but it does come up more often now...

Knackered, adjective, very tired. Broken beyond repair.

Nixer, noun, Job done on the side for cash, thus avoiding tax.
"Tell you what, I'll write your next Budget speech as a nixer, Minister."

Manky, adjective, disgustingly filthy.
Anything from public toilet, waterway.

Ossified, adjective, totally inebriated.
"Do you know it takes just three pints to get an Englishman ossified?"

Plastered, adjective, very drunk.
"My friend was so plastered that he kept calling me babe."

Scratcher, noun, bed.
"Get off the scratcher, you have school in twenty minutes, you don't want to be late."

Up the pole, expression, with child, pregnant.
"My sister is up the pole and Ma is a bit worried."

The other words or phrases weren't worth writing down on this post, but if you want to go check out the little book, I believe you can find it online, Amazon. 

So now that I shared a few expression, you have to leave me alone when I do say some "odd" things... 
No need to judge how someone talks or anything...

"You know when 100% Irish when... You've no idea how to make a long story short."

~Bella

Harbour Street - Ann Cleeves

This Award-Winning Author of Raven Black has a new book, Harbour Street, and I couldn't be happier.

Finished it in two weeks, and the saddest part of the book was when I had to set it down.

I first learned about Ann Cleeves when I started watching "Shetland" a Scottish TV show. Based on her book series, I fell in love with the plots, the intrigued behind every mystery, and the unexpected criminals. So I looked into her biography, the books she wrote, and the Vera Stanhope mystery show which I started to watch.

So when I went to my bookstore, I looked around the Thriller, Crime area when I came upon her book, the only one on the shelf. You cannot image how excited I was when I took over the novel of the shelf, started reading the back and the last phrase of the story... " Vera got into Hector's Land Rover and set off alone for the hills." 

Seems like a normal phrase to half of you but to me, it's the last thing of the story, the mystery, and since it's my first book of hers, I wanted to check it out fast, read it quickly to check out the what she was all about. 

"The shouts and laughter of Christmas revelers follow detective Joe Ashworth and his daughter Jessie as they board the crowded Metro. But when the train stops, Jessie notices that one lady hasn't gotten off: Margaret Krukowski has been fatally stabbed. Retracing Margaret's final steps, Detective Inspector Vera Stanhope keeps asking herself one big question: Why are the residents of Harbour Street so reluctant to speak? What secret do they keep that leads to murder? "
Harbour Street, number six of the series followed by The Moth Catcher and preceded by The Glass Room. Ann truly made the whole mystery a real one. Between the lies, the secrets, the families living in a small fishermen's town, and the backstory of the victim's past been unbelievably well structured. It definitely makes me wonder how did this author manage to get every detail so intriguing to readers.

The victim has been an elderly woman who finds herself stabbed on a packed train before Christmas time. Why would anyone want to kill an elderly woman who works for a family, spends her free time in a shelter for troubled women? Famous detective Vera Stanhope comes in town, searching for answers, talking everyone who could be related to the victim, but she stumbles against many issues. Doesn't take lots for a little village to talk, to hide the past and keep quiet, lie. Many questions come to life as Vera tries to find relatives of the victim, not finding any, but finding out a lot more than just a sad past relationship.

Little villages always find a way for rumours, little secrets, and if something has to disappear, oh, you know it will because despite having rumours, people won't talk to police officers. So when I started reading the story, I pictured old lasses getting a bit too chatty and the outcast who barely speaks to anyone. Now, picturing every bit of each character, the places,  the smell of snow and rain, hearing the sound of snowflakes and boots trying to get around town. Cleeves did manage to get every detail in order for you to have a clear image of everything that is going on in the novel. 

If you are into crime, mystery and a bit of a fan of secrets, please read her books, even if I only read one, I know deep down, she has an amazing potential and not enough credit! 

"We don't often notice the people who look after us, do we? Though we'd miss them if they weren't there." -Ann Cleeves, Harbour Street

~Bella