The "Creepy" podcast

I'll probably talk about it later too, but I figured I should (1) actually write on this blog instead of moping in the corner and (2) explain this other thing that I've been working on.

As far as the second thing is concerned, and I'll talk about it more in the future, many of you could probably guess that I spend a lot of time on the internet. I do a lot of research. You can insert whatever joke you want about what that "research" actually involves, but I do spend a lot of time trying to look into unexplained events, disappearances, etc.

One of the things that I stumbled upon were creepypastas. Maybe I'm way behind on all this like so many other things, but I totally got lost in all the stories out there. And there are A LOT of stories out there. I noticed that a lot of them get covered on Youtube a lot, but for the life of me, I can barely find any existence of them in podcasts, despite all the podcasts out there.

Now, there could be a lot of reasons for this, not the least of which the whole issue of who actually wrote or owns the stories, but I figured "hell, I've got a lot of time on my hands, what if I do this? Maybe it will be cathartic."

So I started recording. Every time I found a creepypasta story that I really liked, I sat down and recorded it, at first just for my own amusement and to kill time, but then I decided, what was the point of keeping these? I'm already putting this out for people to hear, why not get in on the whole "scary story" trend.

It's a nice escape from my own living scary story.

So, I figure that I have enough recorded content to put out about 40 or so weekly episodes, maybe more that I set on auto-post, so if for some reason I get too busy with something or...I don't even want to think about it...the podcast will post automatically.

And that's it. The trailer for Creepy is out there on iTunes and a few other places and the first episode will post next Monday. I hope you like them. I really have no idea if I'm any good at telling scary stories, but they are free, so enjoy.

The Thing About Me

It's been brought to my attention that I am depressing.

And conceited, entitled and overall not a person that people would want to support.

I get that. I really do.

It's just sort of the way things are. I know that if you take what I release solely for what you hear and not what you read about me or see in pictures I post or even if you talk with my via email or social media that a person would think "What the f*** is wrong with this guy?"

Or worse.

But that's how this is. That's the meat of what happens to me. Most of my life is depressing and I know that is hard to listen to over the long run. When I cam back to Crayton I definitely didn't want to be here. It's the old story of the wayward son finding his way home and thinking he's risen above his station in life.

I get that. It was me.

Then I got tied to a chair in a dark place. I had to confront the reality of who my father really was.

The podcast is about my search for answers. The other few hundred hours of audio that exist between episodes that include me watching TV or videos, typing at my laptop, sleeping, eating, etc, is just extra.

It would make no sense to tell you that I watched a video of a guy almost falling down after slipping on the ice 20 times.

It would make no sense for me to tell you that my new heroes in life have become the guys on Youtube who post under "2Cellos".

There is no context for me brining flowers to mom's grave.

There's no point to tell you how many times I wake up crying, wishing that Sara was here instead of me.

And I get it. Because of all that, I know exactly how I sound. I know that people won't like who I am or care about what I go through. I'm grateful that you listen at all, but understand that part of me even doing this blog or social media is to try and help anyone out there to understand that I am a person beyond the surreal.

Without all that stuff, yeah, I'm just an asshole with serious trust issues.

But the other me, the rest of me, is the guy who think's this guy deserves the key to his hometown.

Walking in the Snow

I've lived all over the United States. And there is no place like Minnesota.

I know that I have roots here and my mind might make things better than they really are from time to time, as unlikely as that ever feels these days, but sometimes I look out the window or even go for a walk to the store and think: it's beautiful here.

If you've ever had the luck in your life to just stop and sit and watch the snow fall outside the window, you might understand. It's simplicity and all kinds of poetic if you really want to push yourself.

Come winter and it's like a different world outside. You get use to it, but when you've been gone as long as I've been, living a long time in the southern states, sometimes you forget. I can look out the window to the town I can see even when my eyes are closed and not recognize things.

The trees that loose their leaves. The pines covered in snow like something out of a Christmas card. The sound of a car driving by in slightly melted snow, that slosh that doesn't sound like anything else in the world.

And for a moment you can forget everything.

You can pretend whatever you want.

You can be happy.

I look out the window and I wonder if Sara is cold. And I hate myself for being warm.

I hate myself for my own fear and my own inability to do more. As if wandering through the woods yelling her name would resolve anything.

But it would be something.

I talked to the reporter again, you'll hear it soon. He had something to tell me, something important that I'm trying to follow up on right now.

It's something.

It's getting late/early and I really need to get to bed.

Here is my happy thing for today, Julie.

*side note: that choir conductor is now on my list of favorite people*

Yes, I like Toto. They were mom's favorite.

Bad Dreams

The dreams are bad.

They aren't the worst part, but they are pretty bad. I don't have dreams as much as I used to, not if I stick to the meds, but sometimes they happen. I guess it could be that I just don't remember them.

That's good I suppose.

I've heard that there are people who suffer from something called "sleep paralysis" where people aren't really awake, but they aren't really asleep either and their muscles don't response, so they just lay there in bed, frozen. Some people claim to see things, like dark figures around their bed.

That would suck.

I don't have that, so I don't know what kind of suffering people who have stuff like that or night terrors deal with, but whenever I have bad dreams and wake up, even if I don't remember the dreams, I remember what it was like to hear Sara's voice in the darkness. I can still remember what it felt like to have chains on my wrists. I can still remember the smells from being locked up for months.

Like I said, the dreams aren't the worst part.

And this might not make sense now, but it will make more sense after the next episode. It's just something that I'm supposed to do. Call it immersion therapy I guess. Which, without context is just going to result in you judging me, but I understand.


It's me again. Ryan. I know you have no reason to believe that (I've watched those videos too), but it really is me. No weird videos. No weird preaching. Just me.

I'm looking for answers too.

I wasn't allowed to write on this until now, until the cops were sure that the other posts were done between the videos and the episodes. I couldn't even change the password to the page. It wasn't like it was some masterful plan with this dedicated detective who was sure that he was setting a trap for whoever took us, whoever still has Sara.

It was more like "don't change your password" then some stuff about the police tech guys wanting to look at some stuff. I don't really know if they did anything.

You can understand if at this point I'm not sure that they even care.

These are my journals. Group says that I need to get my thoughts out there, not just on the podcast, but for people to read and see. Things that I don't orchestrate and edit together, just stream of consciousness. Things that I feel. Things that I see.

I've put myself in the public eye. People have seen and heard more about what happened to me than most people will ever be exposed to by reading the paper and watching news reports. You heard the sounds.

Close your eyes and listen to those episodes and you have a large part of what my world was.

It was waaaay worse than that though, because you can open your eyes and see the light. You can look out your window and see the sun (unless you are from Minnesota too, the sun hasn't been making many appearances lately).

You can hear people, talk to people, be a part of the world.

Love that. Embrace that. No matter how bad you think things are getting, remember that you are there.

And if things are way worse, if you read this and understand even a little about what has happened to us, if the sounds of pain and isolation echo inside you even half as much as they do for me, then PLEASE understand that there are those who understand.

Just keep looking for that light and I'll do my best to do the same.

Side note: sorry if most of these come out after midnight, it's when I'm awake.

Did you notice the dates?

If you've been reading these, you've probably noticed that I stopped using dates a long time ago and just use titles for these journals. That's because I'm not writing this today. I found this thing on Square Space that lets me schedule when the posts will appear.

So I took all of my old journals that I wrote before June 4th and I scheduled them to appear randomly until now.

I didn't want you to worry.

I wanted you to think that I'm still here.

I thought that almost two months would be more than enough time assuming that something went wrong.

But if you are reading this, I'm not here. If I was here, I would have deleted this. That person you've been talking to on social media, that's not me either. That's a friend.

The police know enough that they can handle things themselves. If I went to them...if I went to them after I found what was in the wall, they would have taken over. Regardless, by now they've found it all. I honestly don't think if I had gone to the police that they would have cared or that I would have gotten any answers.

I still might not.

If you are reading this, maybe I haven't gotten any answers. Or maybe I got them all.

I'm sorry.

Please believe that I tried.

How many times

525,600 minutes. Thanks to that movie Rent I know that's how many minutes are in a year.

However, I think that could just as easily measure it in any other number of ways with far more tangible numbers.

5 trips to Home Depot just to try and stop the toilet from running.

30 loads of laundry.

60 trips to the grocery store.

200 bottles of bourbon.

300 episodes of the Columbo.

1,400 times listened to Cream of Clapton and Spotlight on Lucille.

3,650 moments of self-doubt.

I know, I know, lists are silly and that last number is way too low. Maybe the song was right. 525,600 sounds a bit closer.