Supernatural, Interrupted
Hello, world. Welcome! To my nightmare…kind of literally. Why? Because hi, world. Not “hi, peer review.” Not “hi, select few.” World.
I’m a writer with a wide range of interests. I love reading horror, science fiction, paranormal romance, romance, ghost stories, true crime, and books about real haunted places.
Oh, and of course mysteries, mostly cozies, but also Agatha Christie. And of course, literature.
I’m a big-time Supernatural nerd. Once, I was trying to do research on a specific old asylum for…uh, reasons *cough, cough* and I was looking at pictures of this asylum, when I saw one of a car. I was 99% sure it was Baby. I saw it was a black car and immediately recognized it as a ’67 Impala, but I’m really not a car person. I went from studying an asylum to studying a car, and I saw the license plate was Kansas… I checked the plate number, and sure enough, it was Baby.
It all goes back to Supernatural. And bacon. And pie…
I exercise. Bacon and pie are called for sometimes, damn it. I’m honestly on the fence about drinking, and I don’t do drugs.
I’m actually dragging out my Supernatural viewing. I’m calling it Supernatural, Interrupted. I’m interrupting it because I don’t want it to end. I’ve seen up to season 12—I haven’t seen seasons 13, 14, or 15. I’ve paused this viewing—I feel I need to be specific, because I’ve rewatched a lot—just after rewatching season 10, and haven’t started the rewatch of season 11 yet. I don’t mind spoilers, and I’m looking forward to the prequel. I just really don’t want it to end, even though I know I’ll end up rewatching it…again…and again…as I have before and will again…
I’ve interrupted it with a slew of podcasts, audiobooks, physical books, music—like Stephen King, I love writing with music in the background, ranging from King Diamond, Cradle of Filth, and In This Moment to instrumentals and jazz, sometimes pop music… (I’m probably the only gal who considers herself goth that can bust out into a Carrie Underwood song, but we’ll swiftly move on from that—please no Taylor Swift. Not a fan. I was also twerking before Miley Cyrus made it a verb, thank you very much. Sometimes, I really miss college.)
I’ve also gotten into The Office, and re-discovered Game of Thrones. I’d seen the first two seasons when the last season was airing, and, case in point on how little I care about spoilers, I went to a party viewing thing for the very last episode with my ex, where we watched the last episode. I know exactly how it ends, but here I am, watching it again. I questioned and worried about whether or not I really liked Game of Thrones or if I liked it because my ex was into it. It was one of these: “Oh, crap, real worst nightmare realized: Have I become ‘that girl’ who likes things because her man’s likes it?” The answer was nope. Never have been that girl and never will be that girl.
Yes, I identify as being a straight woman. I look white, but I am a smidge Hispanic…and I happen to be from Santa Fe, New Mexico, born and raised. I graduated from University of New Mexico with a Bachelor’s in English with a focus in creative writing, and my minor was criminology (I took a lot of sociology classes). New Mexico is one of the 50 states. I understand German way better than Spanish. I might have taken four semesters of German in college…not because I’m a Rammstein fan or anything…definitely didn’t have a crush on Till Lindemann, either…er, I mean, uh, Till who?
(Boy I hope my sarcasm and smart-ass-ness comes off as just those things. I’m also very sad about his arrest in Russia. I know he’ll be fine, but it doesn’t make me any less sad that it happened.)
Santa Fe is one hour away from Albuquerque and is the state capital. It’s smaller than Albuquerque, which is considered a big city. If you watched Breaking Bad at all, I know the first few episodes were definitely filmed in Albuquerque off of Central Avenue, and the show itself takes place in Albuquerque and is based on a true story (probably loosely after a while—not saying it to be mean or cast doubt or anything, I’m just saying I really don’t think some of the things in the Conjuring franchise happened, either; my suspension of disbelief can swallow a lot, but there’s definitely a gag reflex and boy does that sound dirty, I’m sorry to any family members reading this, but for the public, you’re welcome for any and all psychological scarring—hey! It went back to Supernatural again, look at that). I’ve driven by the motel that was shown in the earlier episodes and, one evening after dancing until two in the morning, my roommate and I actually walked home, walking along Central from downtown Albuquerque to our dorm on the UNM campus. (I have no idea what episode they showed the motel in because hi, I stopped watching after the bathtub fell through the floor because of the acid used to decompose the body…Breaking Bad just wasn’t my cup of tea.) My roommate and I made it back to the dorm okay, obviously. We got cat-called once, and that was it.
A lot of people confuse Albuquerque for being the state capital. A very brief history on why that is has to do with the railroad. Back in the day, when the railroad was all the rage, they wanted to build it through Santa Fe, but Santa Fe didn’t want it to go through…but Albuquerque was all about it and yes, pleased it until it was built. You’re welcome.
Santa Fe, Albuquerque, Cimmaron…a certain triangle that may or may not be around Deming…ghost towns… Yep, New Mexico is super haunted! Just so you know. I knew this before I went on vacation to the Massachusetts/Rhode Island area to see a different college roommate, and my dumb ass asked her: “Hey, let’s go into the Bridgewater Triangle.” She asked me where it was, and I admitted: “I…don’t know.” (It turned out we were pretty much in it the entire time I was visiting her and her family. Dear self: You’re welcome. Way to pay attention to Morbid, by the way.) When I got back from the vacation, I thought: “Wait…New Mexico has just as much UFO’s and ghosts as anywhere else. There has got to be a triangle somewhere, right?” According to Google, there’s one around Deming. I intend to look into it further, don’t worry. In the meantime, I’d like for it to be noted that New Mexico gets haunted by La Llorona, too, just like Texas, Arizona, possibly Nevada, and, according to a certain film in a certain franchise previously mentioned, California. Also, Mexico. La Llorona (Lah Yo-Row-Nah), really gets around, apparently. Don’t worry, New Mexico has some other ghosts that sound like a real party.
The Headless Nurse comes to mind. So does Santa Fe’s very own Headless…uh…Horseman? Pretty sure there’s a horse in there—the legend, I mean. I have no idea, he’s Headless, and you can supposedly still hear his head rolling down a certain street. Don’t worry. I’m going to write you all about it, and even suggest a book or two, if you’re really interested. (I’m going to cite the book either way, the choice to read it or not is entirely up to you.)
Oh, how I’d like to get into all the ghosts! But at a later date, and we will. Trust me, we’ll get into all the things because why not?
We’re even going to very briefly get into George R. R. Martin and his theater and book store—yep, those are in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where he also lives.
But for now, I’m going to go take care of some writing stuff. I hope you’ve enjoyed this first post, and I hope you come back for more!
Keep it spooky!
