Ketchup, blog style.

Ok, everyone, it's time to play that insane brain-dump of a game called "Blog Ketchup."

The Rules:

#1: You can't play the same way twice. No, wait, wrong game. Let's start again...

1. All posts must be posted at the same time.

2. All posts must be dated with the appropriate date of the thought so people can follow.

3. Posts must be in order date so as not to confuse people by going backwards or out of order or some such hysteria. though hysteria is allowed as mood permits.

Strap in, folks, its a short but brutal ride.....

Shattering Dawn

Ok, I admit I wasn’t sure what to expect in this situation. We all admitted that we felt disconnected from each other, i.e. Theo and George felt disconnected from me, but as the weight of reality has lifted slightly, the cockroaches of intention have started scurrying into the light.

It strikes me as odd, and by odd I mean hurtful, when I ask one of my soon to be ex-roommates how they are, or how their day was, I get monosyllabic answers and abrupt cut offs to conversation, yet when they ask these questions of each other, in front of me, they turn to one another and actively converse. Or worse, shut themselves away in another room where I’m just within earshot of their laughter as they dish to one another what they obviously think I’m not worthy of hearing. And I was labeled the secretive one of the group?

For months now, I have gotten looks in response to simple questions that said to me, ‘Why are you even talking to me?’ I thought it might be stress or fatigue, so I let it go, giving space where I thought it was needed because I respected that need for privacy. Now I realize that dismissal was willful, and I was being pushed away.

I guess I was expecting a little more class from this particular pair of elitists, but with the attitude comes the snobbery. I’ve felt for some time that I was being ‘granted’ attention grudgingly, but this is just uncivil. Uncivil, hurtful, and rude.

Perhaps it is because I came into my own more and became something they didn’t necessary feel connected to. Perhaps I simply became more difficult to lead. There have been moments in recent past when I stood my ground against one of my roommates when they were trying to lead me down the path to what they wanted, and it annoyed them greatly. Who was ‘right’ made no difference. The fact that they would stoop to trying to wave eloquence in my face to blind me from my own good sense is ridiculous and insulting.

A perfect example would be the naming of Circle and Staff. Theo and George had the discussion of the name of the group we had intended to start together within the Pagan community. Something queer welcoming, pagan/environmentally focused, and community present. This discussion was had while I was not present, then all but bullied me into agreeing when I walked in. Mind you, I like the name. I have no problem with it, but I had no say. I was put on the spot to come up with something else, having no warning that such a discussion was going to be had so of course I had nothing, and so the decision was made. To top it off, the domain names for the group had already been purchased before I was even asked!

Another most profound moment of this was our discussion to part company less than a fortnight ago. They both kept using the word ‘organisism' to express how they felt our mental separation had progressed. Forgive me, but I firmly believe that one of the lesser reasons these two believe in organisism is not because it is the allowance of natural process in a situation, allowing for the difference factors to germinate and mix as they are going to. No, for these two, it is simple sloth. They are both admittedly lazy, and I am not under most circumstances. This has caused us to knock heads more than once, from travel arrangements to extermination needs (see: bedbugs) to simple household chores. I don't care that things don't get done my way. I care that things don't get done at all. It is one of the things I won’t miss, but it is also one of the biggest reason I am so hurt.

In essence, it feels like my presence is either being ignored, or seen as little more than a necessary annoyance until we move. I feel like my voice holds no sway, and hasn’t for a long time. And the worst part of this whole thing is that I still care for these two so much. I want nothing but the best for them, and I get treated little better than dirt for walking into a room. I realize that we have our differences, but I haven't seen this kind of behavior out of the two of them since Josiah (see entry about former roommate's face exploding, one of the first two in the blog) was here. Is that how I'm seen now? A blight to be excised?

I was hoping this would not end up being a cat fight between the two of them and myself, but I cannot remain silent about this kind of dismissal any longer. I didn’t spend the last year being the responsible, forgiving, understanding one to be tossed aside like a used condom.

The more things change...

So, it’s been a week since it all came to be. Theo, George and I will no longer be living together. Sigh.

I have to admit, I’ve known this was going to happen for a while now. Since November, in fact. I just didn’t know exactly when it would be manifest, but indeed it has. I’m at peace with it for the most part. And part of me is really looking forward to the change. I will miss living with Theo and George, but I have never lived alone before. It’s something I really need to do, as an adult as much as for myself. I believe it is something everyone should do at least once in their life so they can truly understand what the life is like.

I think the only hitch in this whole thing is something trivial that really should have been left unsaid in my opinion. Theo mentioned he was considering moving in with George for financial reasons, i.e. being able to get a bigger place than he would alone and being able to save. He was, however, concerned because such an idea might be taken badly by me, the only roommate then who would be on their own, to say nothing of outside onlookers. That’s all well and good, but the truth of it all is that there is no good way to take something like that. If that is their decision, so be it. I have no control over their actions. But is it me, or is there simply no way to look at that and not think ill of this parting?

I support them in all that they do. I love them both, and honestly, living alone is something I want. But to voice something like that, let alone doing it, is not going to be seen well, no matter the intent. It’s bad enough that I had the distinct impression during the main discussion we had about our parting that Theo and George had already come to this decision together and were simply trying to gently lead me to the same conclusion. I've seen them do it before, I wouldn’t put it past them. And honestly, I’d be offended by it if I hadn’t already had an inkling that this was the correct move.

Perhaps I’m over thinking things, but circumstances here cannot be denied. All I can do now is be of whatever aid I can to the two men in my life who mean a thing to me truly, and make this transition as smooth as possible. And in the end, that's what matters most above all the other mess. I love these guys, and if they decide to move in together, it makes it easier to partition junk and get things packed. It is what it is.

I GET A KITTY OF MY VERY OWN!!

Wringing out what’s left of my brain

So, something is squeezing my skull. It’s called Sheer Force of Will, and I’m currently utilizing it to wring as much functionality out of my head as possible. Considering how little there was to begin with, it’s an undertaking.

Recap: Isis. Of all the Goddesses to research and do anything meaningful on, I had to be picked by one of the heaviest hitters out there. Worse yet, I have a month. ONE MONTH to get this whole thing off the ground. Makes me want to pee in fear a little bit. Brain usage: 30%.

Job: Going well, all things considered. We’re all performing at levels no one likes but can’t be helped thanks to the wonders of economic leavings. I still want out of here as badly as one can, but I’m good until June, so that makes me happy. Money isn’t as tight as it could be, so all is really pretty well in this arena. I just work ungodly hours, sleep poorly, and never see the two men in my life who mean a thing to me, George and Theo. Brain usage: 20%

Study, professional: Ah, Access. How you torment me. I’ve had this discussion with Theo already, but I am NOT a big fan of the new Office ’07 layout for Access. Part of its really great, other parts of it SUCK BIG HAIRY DONKEY BALLS. Maybe it’s me. Maybe because I wasn’t used to the old layout I don’t’ appreciate the new layout for what it was meant for. I appreciate and accept that. Doesn’t make trying to learn it any easier. Brain usage: 20%

Study, personal: Going SWIMMINGLY!! I am learning so much, and branching off, and doing weird new stuff, very, very exciting!! I have Theo to thank for that on a side note, having kicked me so I face the direction I couldn’t see because there was the big gaping SIGN in my way. But whatever, yea for learning! I can’t wait for the weather to be well enough (and the ground to be dry enough) for a Montrose beach romp. I get to practice! So happy! I’m also doing two things right now I’ve never done before, and they’re ongoing and require almost constant attention, one of hoodoo origin, the other not, so trying to keep that focused has been a labor in the jumble. Brain usage: 30%.

Love life: WHAT love life? Brain usage: 5%, out of want.

Writing: It just…won’t…stop…coming… For some reason, the stories have been SPILLING out of my head. Just GUSHING. Bits and pieces and parts, all jumbled together in this enormous spaghetti wheel noise of musings and muses all vying for attention. And of course, I’m cannibalizing old stories that will NEVER be finished to put in newer stories that have the potential to get done and published. I’m now glad I never deleted this stuff, because there are pieces that surprisingly don’t suck, and work well in completely different context, different characters, even different times. Brain usage: 25%.

So, that brings us to 130% of brain capacity currently being used, not including the french fried sections. Please excuse me while I tighten the clamp…ow…

...."love that casts a widening pool of light"....

On this day, we begin renewed.

On this day we are joined with the voices of the world who cry out for peace, and we say onto them, “Watch us.”

On this day, we are jarred by the howls of those who oppose us, who say we cannot prevail, that we cannot be what we once were and strive to be again. To them we say, “Watch us.”

And on this day, a man stood before us as he did 40 years ago, again in the shadow of a great leader and glad to be there. He helped usher in a movement aside Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. that struck the heart of every American near and far. And today, that same man cried out to his god and called for a blessing upon a president he thought he might never live to see.

And now, I have watched a lame duck depart, and none too soon make way for a man willing to do what is asked of him, not make excuses, or feign grandeur in the face of things he knows nothing about.

I have cried, I have laughed, I have joined my fellow man in song. This day begins a new era in our history. And it is a history we make and shape and move toward together. The man has set the pace. Let us move together, making 'love' a word of strength once more.

Remembering a Friend

Day started like any other. I got on a train, then a bus, then slipped and fell on the ice that had been dusted with snow overnight. Love it when my pride gets bruised more than anything else. Looked up to make sure no one saw that, and moved on. I got to my desk, got settled, and started writing.

Then my phone went off. And my world cracked at the edges.

“I made an appointment to have Raven put down tomorrow @ 8.”

Shock. Then I got mobile, and rang my sister, Lexie. Apparently Raven, the black beauty of the cat world, had had a stroke. She wasn’t eating, she wasn’t drinking, and she couldn’t walk. At 16, she’d finally lost out to time.

Raven started her stint in our lives a puffball hauled out of my sister’s leather jacket one evening in December. Raven and her siblings were being given away at a local vet’s office, so Lexie snagged one and walked her home. 3 miles home. In the cold and wind of an Indiana December. We already had a cat at the time, a big orange tabby named Winston. He was only 2, but he didn’t take kindly to having this new little thing in the house. That lasted about a day. After that, he was carrying her to the litter, carrying her to the food bowl, showing her all the sunny spots, and generally taking this skittish little kitten under his wing.

Raven became the streak of black lightning that would race through the house now and then. You’d never know she was a cat. You’d swear she was a small rocket. She liked to hide, she liked to burrow, but most of all, she liked TUNA. It was the only sure way to get her out was to open a can, and there she was, just around a corner, or under a table, ready to zip out, get her snack, and zip away.

She passed between Lexie and I several times over the years, first with both of us when Lexie and I lived at home, then sometimes with me, sometimes her. She wandered at night, prowling her domain, but loved hiding out on the towels in the linen closet. Open the door, and there she was, looking at you, wondering why you felt it necessary to disturb her nap.

As the years passed, she got ornery, though not mean, just a touch bitter about getting old. Then the beagles came, and I know she wondered what she’s done to deserve them. Though they learned quickly she was a force to be reckoned with, she still wandered about, though slower than she once had, hanging out more in plain sight now that everyone knew to fear and respect her.

We as a family had been making fun of her age for a while, though never in front of her, because that yielded sharp looks and destroyed items to be found later. But deep down, we all knew the day would come when we’d have to say goodbye to our little black beauty.

And now that day has come. The fiercely independent femme noir who submitted to getting declawed but never fixed now looks to those who always loved her to send her on her way. Tomorrow, Lexie will take her to the vet to be put to sleep, and then she’ll be buried next to Winston in my mom’s backyard. And every spring, the flowers will mark where the next point of her journey begins.

Farewell, my littlest friend. I will never forget you, and all you have taught me.

Vegan…Survivalist…Wabbits!

Vegans are making me crazy. I appreciate that they have a strong standing on what they are and are not willing to tolerate when it comes to animal cruelty. And the fact that they make this statement with their very lifestyle is amazingly brilliant. I support that fully. What I can’t get behind is their being so disgusted with people around them who don’t feel the same way. Just because I wear leather and fur and eat meat doesn’t make me a puppy killer.

I don’t mind people wearing fur, but I’m sorry, if I take the time and energy to go hunting for rabbit and manage to bag a couple, I’m eating roasted bunny for the next week, using the bones for jewelry, and using the organs I can’t ingest for compost. That’s all there is to it. Then there’s the new hat I’d get out of the deal! Or gloves. Warm, soft, furry gloves…

See? I don’t have a problem with this. I do have a problem, however, with penning animals in tiny, unsanitary areas where they never see sunlight and are bred for the sole purpose of Prada, but if they’re out in the wild, munching away and they happen to get in the way of an arrow, I’m making good use of them, and honoring their sacrifice but returning a bit of the little critter to the land to make grass for future rabbit targets… I mean furry friends. Really, that’s what I meant.

Ann Coulter IS a hate crime, and sugar is good for you

Well, it couldn’t last. Ann Coulter’s jaw has healed, and has subsequently been set free to hate once more. After going down a flight of stairs the quick and painful way, she has gotten back up on her leggy, reactionary self and now has the power of speech once more. Hear that? It’s hate. And it’s name is Ann. Joy. I mean seriously, anyone who is herself called a living breathing hate crime and answers, “Thank you” is a hardcore cunt. She calls out some supposedly questionable ballot-counting practices in Minnesota, and how Democrats have been ‘thieving their way to victory over the years,’ yet manages to completely dismiss how George W. Bush actually lost to Al Gore by over 500,000 in 2000. Huh.

Ann manages to be petty, whiny, uninformed, and remarkably vocal all at the same time. Granted, she’s pandering to the Right, which makes her blond ambition a great asset. All through the election she tried to label the now President-elect a Terrorist by highlighting his middle name all over the place. Granted she hasn’t done so since the election. I know I wouldn’t now that threatening him in any way will get you prison time. Not that I consider calling out someone's name a threat, but anyone else feel like baiting a stupid blond into an ankle bracelet and a numbered cell?

Kudos to whoever greased those stairs, though. Next time, make the flight longer. If you manage a major head or throat injury, it might silence her for good. Can we get a committee on this, please?

(For the record, it was never officially confirmed that she fell down a flight of stairs, or that she was truly injured at all. Nice thought though, isn’t it? I’m running with it for now. Correct me if you know different!)

And can I just say Rick Warren was a seriously off choice for the inaugural invocation. I nominate Matthew Ellenwood! No one does an invocation like he does!! Seriously, I agree that Obama wants to show that he is an all-encompassing figure interested in hearing and supporting the views of others even when he does not agree with them. I recognize that, I agree with it, but he could have picked someone who wasn't QUITE so incredibly homophobic. Just a thought.

In other, more personal news, I’ve finally broken down. I can’t stand it anymore. I’m changing my diet. ARRRGGG!!! I hate doing this. I am a creature of habit, as so many are, and changing something as fundamental as my eating habits is a trip for me. I mean, I’m not going Vegan or anything; I’m pretty sure I get homicidal quick. I’m just doing what most personal trainers tell you to do anyway: cutting way down on sweets, increasing fruits and veggies, cutting out most fats, and increasing protein.

But speaking of protein, George and I had a discussion about this earlier today, and he brings up a valid point; there are so many foods you wouldn’t necessarily think of that provide protein. Veggies, grains, dairy, all these are know as good protein sources as well as carbohydrate and vitamin sources. And I don’t care what anyone says, sugar is necessary for the body to survive. It’s VITAL. It’s BODY FUEL. EAT IT. Moderation is always best, but cutting it out completely will KILL YOU. Just so we’re clear.

Anyway, protein is good, sugar is good, fat isn’t horrendous as long as it’s moderate, and I vote that pecan pralines are made a food group so they can be eaten with impunity. Can we get a committee on this, please?

Catharsis

So, I’ve been becoming increasingly introspective recently. I know, some of you are already bracing yourself, and those of you who aren’t probably should. I’ll wait…

There we go, everyone ready? Good, let’s continue.

I’ve been focusing a lot recently on my personal spiritual work. I got lazy, I admit it, and just didn’t do anything for about three months, and then complained inwardly about how vacant everything seemed. I walked around feeling hollow, unfulfilled, and then promptly kicked myself for it. Duh…

So, I’ve continued, forcibly in some cases, my journey, and I’ve come to a series of realizations about myself, a couple that are pretty neat, and a couple that suck.

The first came several months ago, before my laziness. It basically pulled me out of myself and forced me to look at everything I already had to work with. Much of it was raw, unrefined, but still very present, like a hunk of ore that had not been shaped into what it could be. I was using it as a blunt instrument instead of a well-made weapon. It still did the job, but crudely, and without skill. So, my first order of business was to work with what I had. Understand it, work with it, refine it into something functional. Realization: neat.

Another, and by no means in order, came in the form of a person: Michael. Some of you may remember my mental meltdown over what to do with this man a few months ago, but he also awakened in me the notion that this was entirely my own fault. Again. Let me explain…

I love to love. I nurture, I care, I worry, I want to be near it, I want to be a part of it, I want to see it, hear it, smell it, taste it, I LOVE love, but most of all I love loving. And that gets me into more trouble than I wanted to admit to myself. For years. Several of them. Anyone familiar with the parade of men (and women) in my life knows that my luck in relationships has been in waves. Everything starts out roses, and ends up in the compost heap. And it’s really my own fault. I choose my relationships based on my want to love, and historically I have attached myself to those in need of love. I want to show them how amazing and wonderful love and life can be, but this is the same problem women who stay with drunks have: I wanted to fix something. Even though I wanted to share my insane amounts of love for love with them and show them that life is this grand bazaar of love and laughter, I still wanted to fix them because I felt their lack of understanding of love was broken. Hence, my problem. Trying to fix people is bad. Basing whole relationships on it is worse. Realization: suck.

More recently, I realized something that evoked mixed feelings in me. I’ve been running on raw talent and ambition for a LONG time. Most of my life, in fact. I learn a little, work with my own deductive/organizational/energetic skills, and I’ve pushed forward, making my way on nerve, talent, and LOTS of sugar. Maybe not the best choice, but I’ve found that now to achieve my goals, both set for me and those I set myself, I can’t run on what I’ve got anymore. I have to go out and get the knowledge, hone my skills, and basically get off my ass and do something with myself if I want to get anywhere. I thought I was doing something. Apparently not. But I sure as hell I am now. Realization: jury’s out.

And then we come to my blog. My angry little soapbox, my dumping ground for stress, my moments of ‘what the fuck?’ This one hit me this morning, sparking this entry though not the need for it. I realized that this very space I was suing to hide in. I projected pieces of myself, the ones I wanted to world to see however true they may be, onto the screen in angry, opinionated, even poetic snippets, censoring out the sections I didn’t want everyone else to see. In truth, I didn’t want to see them. Thus I have come to the most profound and yet most painful realization of all: there are parts of myself I don’t like to the point that I completely ignore them, and that’s seriously unhealthy. Let’s face it, we all have parts of ourselves we don’t like, be it a nervous habit, a temper, a merchant not to stand up for ones self, poor fashion sense, something we don’t like about ourselves. But me, I just pretend they don’t exist, and that’s the worst habit of mine in existence. I rationalize them, I refuse to look at them, but I don’t’ deal with them. And I as I look back on my old entry, few of them as there are, I realize that even here, I am ignoring the pieces of myself I think others object to, or that are ‘unacceptable’ somehow. Realization: fuck that.

I’m sick of hiding in my own head. I’m sick of wanting people to know me, then keeping so many things to myself that people have nothing to go on. I feel like a failure for gaining 15 lbs in four months, I can’t stand public speaking, and I’m scared to death of being forgotten. There I said it. I don’t feel better. I don’t like it, but I said it.

I also love pandas and knee socks. Damn, that didn’t help.

I hate cathartics. I have a feeling this hate will grow before I get anything out of it. Bummer.

Divine Nation

Since when did ‘Muslim’ become an insult? When did our fear override of common sense, our sense of decency, or our sense of self? ‘Give us your poor, your tired, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.’ Unless they’re Muslim. Then they get sent to Gitmo.

I’ve been hearing some serious shit on the street of late, and from what I understand basically the people I’m hearing want to turn this country into an extended version of Sarajevo. Anyone out there even remember the Bosnian War and what was happening? That entire conflict was Bosnian Serbs vs. Muslims, and the Serbs were killing every single Muslim they came across, unless of course said Muslims were being dumped into concentration camps where prisoners were tortured, sexually mutilated, then executed. Which, remarkably, is the kind of thing people are not totally against for Muslims in this country. People in this country, of various walks of life, talking in public about how we should just bomb the entire Middle East and have done with it, and how all Muslims should just be shot. It’s called Ethnic Cleansing, and you want to bring it to our home turf? Do they have meds available for that level of bat-shit crazy?!

Forget Muslim as an insult. There was a time when being Muslim was a death sentence, and in the not too distant past. Then again, so was being Jewish, being Pagan, being gay, being a woman and walking around with being covered in a formless black swath and wearing shoes that render every step silent. Need I go on? Give me a fucking break, people.

I wonder if any of the people spewing this filth have ever even seen a copy of the Koran, let alone read it. Some of the imagery is absolutely beautiful, and believe it or not it’s not a big book of ‘do as Allah says or we blow you up.’

Fanaticism is horrendous and ugly no matter who is spewing it or who its being spewed at, and it’s not necessary. We have enough shit to worry about right now; we don’t need to be killing people in our own backyard just because they don’t happen to worship the way we’re used to.

My mother, love her so dearly, actually coined a thought process that I subscribe to whole-heartedly: what if we’re all right? The Jews, the Christians, the Muslims, the Pagans, what if it’s all true? What if this great, amazing ‘force’ (No Star Wars references please, just stay with me) that allows life to exist and created it from what was before is so great and vast and incomprehensible that we simply can’t narrow it down to one form of understanding? What if it more like a diamond, with hundreds of thousands of facets, or faces? And what if each face is a different religious or belief structure, depending on the person or people looking up in wonderment? That would mean that this great ‘thing’ has the power to be whatever we need it to be, in whatever form we need it to take, to understand what ‘it’ is, and our connection to it.

The Divine is not something any of us has a right to narrow down beyond ourselves, because truly, the only point of reference we can ever have in full is our own. So who are we to say that someone else’s belief, or view of the Divine, is invalid? No one has that right, and no one has the right nor the obligation to give up their beliefs for the sake of government, society, or culture. We are individuals for a reasons, and there are as many faces of the Divine as there are each of us, because the Divine exists within each of us. It is our life, it is our breath, and thus it is our words. Are you speaking for the Divine today?