ghosts of disappointment

I have officially become a tourist.

I used to live on the lovely Mackinac Island. Yup, the place with this:
At any rate, while visiting the island, and my favorite Blacksmith, I found a new book about hauntings on the island. My boyfriend is a big ghost buff, so we bought it. I decided this morning would be a great one to start reading, before I head out to do historical interpretation. I got really into it when I read a ghost story I knew, and experienced with my best friend up there. I also recognized my other friend's ghost story and I started to get excited, maybe somehow this author found out about MY ghost story. I got really excited.

Nope, no ghost stories by Jenn were in there at all. I know I heard ghosts, I know I know I know. They were running around while I was sick. But of course, that's not cool is it? Seeing ghosts is much cooler then hearing them, right?

Ah well, who needs to read about my ghosts stories? I mean I have such cooler stories from that time in my life, including a horrid walk home from 1/2 wine night.