I’m a regular guy — I like my beer cold and my pizza hot. And if left to my own devices, my wardrobe would consist only of ripped jeans and t-shirts with dirty/funny sayings on them. Thankfully, I’m married which saves me from myself quite often.

Yesterday I was in New York City for a taping of The Maury Show. They were producing an episode on the paranormal so they asked me to come on and discuss some ghosts caught on tape. The show was a great experience. I had the opportunity to meet some friends I have known for a few years via email and phone calls. I met psychic and author Jeffrey Wands, Tom and Lisa Butler from the American Association of Electronic Voice Phenomena, plus folks from the New Jersey Ghost Organization and Western New York Paranormal. (You can see some photos on my Gallery page: http://www.jeffbelanger.com/gallery.shtml).

Oh yeah… the makeup… Wednesday morning I woke up with a shiny red zit on the bridge of my nose. Kind of like a red LED light — the kind of thing that may actually be able to glow in the dark. I really haven’t had zits since I was a teenager, but there it was.

On The Maury Show there is a makeup room backstage. Typically only the female guests get touched up before going on. I watched as the ladies who were going to be on the show finished up and then I coyly asked one of the makeup artists there, “Can you do something about this?” And I pointed to my nose.

This woman was all business. “Sure!” She said. “Have a seat.” I sat down and she pulled out a paint brush and proceeded to make my zit disappear like some kind of Hollywood Illusionist. I looked in the mirror when she was done and simply said, “Wow!” I was the only guest in the makeup room at this point. That’s when the second stylist came over and started patting down parts of my hair that were sticking up. The first makeup artist then told me my forehead was kind of shiny and could she “Touch me up?” I said sure and she proceeded to take the shine away.

So there I was, completely made-up. I’m not really a vain person, but I can honestly say that they made a real improvement. Yes, I wore makeup… and I’m not ashamed.

The Maury Show I’m going to be on airs Tuesday, January 30th. In my segment, you won’t be able to spot the pulsing red zit on the bridge of my nose, nor my glistening forehead, and I owe it all to that sweet lady in Maury’s makeup room. I wish I knew her name so I could tip my hat to her publicly.

“It’s just a game…” That’s what I keep telling myself. Last night the Patriots lost to the Indianapolis Colts in a nail-biter of an AFC Championship football game. The first half, the Patriots dominated on both sides of the ball. But even when we were up by 18 points, the Patriots faithful weren’t exactly making hotel reservation in Miami yet — the Colts are just too good. In the second half, the Colts were a completely different team. They were making very few mistakes and were starting to have their way with the New England defense. The game turned into a shootout.

This game was so heart-breaking because the Colts only had the lead for 60 seconds of the game. It just happened to be the last 60 seconds. I’m at peace with the loss… sort of. I keep playing the shoulda, woulda, coulda game. If only the Pats coulda stopped one more offensive drive by the Colts. If only New England woulda made one more offensive drive for a touchdown. The reality is, they didn’t. The Colts were the better team yesterday.

When my team wins, I can ride the high for a week — right up until the next game. When they lose, I tell myself, “It’s just a game, get on with your life.” I know in reality this will sting just a little bit right up until the next game… which unfortunately is many months away.

My hats off to the Colts. And no offense to my friends in Chicago, but I don’t think the Super Bowl is going to Chi Town. This year (I think) is finally Payton Manning’s year.

My first book came out in August of 2004. I remember the giddy excitement of holding the finished product for the first time and the pride I felt when I saw The World’s Most Haunted Places on the bookshelves in the bookstores.

I’m not sure exactly what it feels like to be an author because every day on this job feels like something new. Though I’ve published five other books since, and I have seven and eight on the way in the next year, I still discover new thrills and challenges within the job — I’m still learning what it’s like to be an author.

Some days are really tough. I struggle to get work done. I fall behind, I get frustrated at what I need to accomplish in such a short time period, and I wish I was doing something else. Other days are pure magic. I learn something, gain insight into a tiny facet of a subject, and feel like I’m growing and getting better at what I do. In short, being a writer feels a lot like other jobs I’ve had. There are good days and there are bad days. I have bosses, some people compliment me on what I do (which always feels nice), and some people tell me they don’t like it (which always hurts, no matter how many times you tell yourself that everyone is entitled to their opinion). One of the main differences with this job compared to others I’ve had is that when someone didn’t agree with the way I did my old job, my boss would pull me aside for a quick and private one-on-one. In this job, people publish their disapproval in magazines and on Web sites like Amazon.com for all the world to see.

I recently experienced a good day on the job. A new thrill. In the mail, I received some author copies of my first book published in Estonian. Estonia is a northern European country just south across the Gulf from Finland. Check out the cover:

I flipped through the book. I don’t have a clue as to what it says and I can only hope that the translation is a good one, but holding that book, I really felt like an author for a few minutes. A similar feeling to when The World’s Most Haunted Places first came out.

My publisher told me that some of my other books have also been sold to foreign publishers, and I’ll also be getting copies of those books. I can’t wait. Thanks, Estonia!

I’m under a lot of stress right now. My wife and I have a child on the way, we’re trying to get our house ready for it, I have a book deadline I’m working on night and day (at least I’m finally catching up there), and I’m trying to manage a complete technical redo of Ghostvillage.com for some exciting developments in 2007. My work days typically start at 7:30 in the morning and unless I have an appointment or some other event I simply need to be at, I’ll work until about 9:00 at night.

I’m not writing all this for sympathy or anything like that. Everything I’m working on right now I love doing, it just happens to be piling up at the moment. But this isn’t about my “have-to” list. This is about self-inflicted stress. I’m talking, of course, about Patriots football.

I don’t consider myself your typical American guy. I love to read and write, cook, I love art museums, classical music, and lots of other eclectic interests. But man, when Sunday comes I transform into Joe-Twelve-Pack and plant my ass in front of the HDTV, I raise the volume of my surround sound stereo, and I yell for my team. There’s no rationale for it, but I feel like if I’m not watching and pulling for my team, they won’t do as well.

I admit I’m very biased, but I consider the Patriots the thinking-man’s football team. They play a delicate game of chess combined with a rigid discipline to the fundamentals (most of the time) that I admire and even yell for. But last night my stomach was in a knot for about three and a half hours. Last night the Patriots played in a playoff game against the San Diego Chargers. By just about every measure, the Chargers outplayed the Patriots. They were faster, bigger, and stronger. And they mostly dominated play… but they made some critical mistakes and the Patriots did what they often do in big games — they capitalized.

In the fourth quarter the tide turned just enough that a win actually looked possible. I spent the second half of the quarter kneeling in front of the TV — not in some form of pagan worship — but because I was tense and knew that jumping up and down after every play was going to get someone (probably me) hurt. As the seconds ticked away after the Patriots tied the game and put themselves in game-winning field goal position, suddenly all the doubt I had the entire game was erased. When the San Diego kicker missed his final (and very long) field goal attempt, I remembered why I love this team — they find a way. They don’t usually blow their opponents apart, they pick them apart and strike at just the right moments. It doesn’t matter that you’re bigger, faster, and have a better record. When it counts, the Patriots and their football savant coach know what they’re doing.

I have no expectations of next week’s game against the Colts. The Patriots have taught themselves and all of their true fans to take it one game at a time. I’m sure they’ll keep me at the edge of my seat because they usually do.

For an hour after last night’s game I felt the stress slowly leaving my body. Kind of like the feeling after almost getting in a car accident. You realize you dodged a bullet. I kept saying to my wife, “Why do I put myself through this?” I mean, if the Patriots lost last night, I still would have had a lot of work to do today. Whether they won or lost should have no impact on my life at all. But it does. There’s a spring in my step today as I toil away at the projects that were waiting for me regardless, and there’s anxious anticipation of the next game — like a good party you know is coming up this weekend.

Nope, I don’t need any added stress in my life. But the drama, technical acumen, and excitment the Patriots bring me each week is worth every knot in my stomach.

Go Pats! (Now back to my regularly schedule intellectual pursuits…)

I rolled into Gettysburg, Pennsylvania yesterday for a meeting regarding the Ghost World Conference we’re having here in July. Gettysburg is a town where history (and its ghosts) are most certainly alive. There are multiple competing ghost tours in this little town, reenactors walk the streets and battlefields (are they reenactors or are they ghosts?), and even the locals will acknowledge their supernatural side if you ask.

Last night I went to dinner at the Dobbin House Tavern, a home constructed in 1776 that now serves Colonial and Continental cuisine. We ate in the Springhouse Tavern located in the basement of the building which was a perfect setting for our ghostly discussion about theories, research, and the people doing the investigations.

After dinner, we decided to pay a quick visit to Sach’s Bridge — just a couple of miles from the restaurant. Sach’s Bridge was the main retreat route for the Confederate forces after the battle of Gettysburg. It’s also said to be one of the more haunted hot spots here.

When we arrived, we noticed there were a few people already on the bridge snapping away pictures, and looking for spooks. This was the evening of January 12th — clearly off-season for Gettysburg, but there they were ghost hunting. And there we were casually doing the same.

When we got closer, I saw that they were three teenagers. They showed us some of the “orbs” they had captured on their digital cameras and we asked if they belonged to any investigative groups. They said they did not.

Every time I come to Gettysburg, I’m amazed at how many supernatural tourists and armchair ghost hunters I run into. Interest in this field continues to spread and people are asking questions (even if they’re asking those questions with a digital camera). This is a good thing.

Gettysburg is a shining example of an historic location that full appreciates and embraces its important historical significance, but also accepts its supernatural appeal. Some visitors may come here only looking for ghosts, but they’re bound to leave with a little history too. This is also a good thing.