Cleaning for the Gods

So, in my last post I mentioned having been commanded by a deity, who I assume to be Aset considering my half sleep response to her, to clean before I came back to shrine. Now, I haven’t been in shrine in a while, partly because I like privacy when I’m in shrine and hardly get it, partly because I’m lazy and partly because my room is a mess. When you share a room with a baby and sister it’s not exactly easy to keep things neat. However, I got the command and decided to do it, even though there were times I wanted to go in beforehand. I did the cleaning today, since I still had off of work today. It was nice and incredibly tiring. Bathroom is clean, plenty of trash was thrown out, summer clothes are away, clean laundry is away, sheets are changed, floor is vacuumed, books and papers are organized and away, yarn is away. My half of the room looks great (and since most of the storage space is on my side, I’m very proud of myself). Sister’s side, not so much. It makes me self conscious to say the least, if I were to go into shrine only half the room is clean. And I know it’s not my fault or responsibility, but still.

Anyway, now I have no idea what to do next. I don’t know if I’ve really met everything She asked for me to do. I think I have, but I don’t want to be wrong and get in trouble, getting swatted isn’t exactly my idea of a good time ya know? Not to mention I have no idea what to bring to shrine for Aset, or what I should be expecting once I get there. Who knows, I guess I’ll see. Maybe I can get Sister to clean her half.

Oh Gods

Yeah, just makin things confusing for myself this month. So, a few weeks ago I had a big fight with TB that led to me exploding at Anpu and Set because I was feeling lost and chaotic and out of control of myself and my life. Said conflict with TB was resolved the day after, but I backed away from shrine. Now, I kept making offerings out of my food (easier than trying to get food upstairs anyway), but otherwise was away from shrine. Something I may not have mentioned in discussing this before, was that I also appealed to Aset. I don’t know what made me choose Her, since the reason I was appealing was to get some divine help in being a better girlfriend and, in the future, wife and mother. Never beforehand had I looked at Aset, even though I knew She is one of the goddesses associated with motherhood and wifery. I couldn’t tell  you why I was never drawn to her for that beforehand. But whatever, I appealed to her. I didn’t really think I’d get an answer, I don’t know, someone who knows they lose control of themselves easily and has esteem issues and bouts of Crazy tend not to think they’ll ever get answers or doubt everything.

So, a couple days ago I had two very strange dreams. It was early in the day, back to back. I remember them being unusual in that they were realistic. (As a comparison, I dreamt about zombies and princesses in the same dream last night. And these zombies? Intelligent. That was ice cream before bed.) Anyway, if I remember what these dreams were actually about I’ll post them. The important point is that between these dreams I found myself half awake. You know the type, part of your brain is still in dreams while the other is aware that you are in bed sleeping and not in some house where you’re having a curious discussion with someone. Anyway, in this half dream state, I very clearly heard a voice talking to me. Well, more commanding, but whatever. It wasn’t one of my mental voices, nor was it any person I knew, and it wasn’t male. It didn’t come with the fiery feeling I get when Anpu is coming around either.

“Do not come back to shrine until you’ve cleaned and prepared yourself and room properly.” Not exactly what it said, but that was the gist. And it repeated itself until I answered back “alright, Aset, I hear you, I hear you. I’ll do it, whatever you want, I’ll clean.” I also remember getting up to pee and reminding myself to remember that and the dream before it. Of course I waited too long to think about and write the dream down so I lost it.

So yeah, I’ve been thinking about that and what it may mean. It seems a little obvious, but I’m not so sure. I never wanted to be one of those newbies who is constantly switching through deities, but I feel like that’s exactly what I’m doing. Lucky for my sense of stability Anpu and Set said good morning the other day. Not sure what to do at this point except clean my room and see what happens when I finally get a chance to go to shrine again? Mundane life is more stable because Crazy went back to sleep and so I’m more stable. That and things seem to be working out again in various areas. I have more information to help the kid I work with, or at least I have more insight into why various things may not work for him. TB is going to start working with my staffing company, and he’ll be getting a higher pay rate because of his degree and once he gets a case we’ll be able to save faster and afford an apartment together.

I don’t even know right now. I’m just glad things in mundane world are slowly working themselves out, or seem to be anyway. Hopefully I’ll be able to get the same going with my spiritual life as well.

On a final note, inhaler and nebulizer vials, yay?


So, these last two weeks have been one of health. Physical health mostly, but mental health as well. My Crazy showed up and was a major factor in a big fight between me and TB, which has since been resolved. However, Crazy also contributed to me exploding at Anpu and Set. I really got upset with Them because I feel like my life is just one big ball of chaos and isfet and I don’t feel helped in any way. I was frustrated to the max and honestly I still am. Like I just always have something getting in the way or coming up right when  I think I’m on the way to my goals. Like moving out with TB. We’ve had to officially move our move out date back because the most affordable place requires him to have a job even though we can afford it just on my paycheck. Our friend backed out again and now it’s just a mess again. We’re managing to hold on to what little money we have, but all we need is something serious and our savings will get wiped again.

Then, my asthma flares. Yup, the lungs that’ve been pretty calm for months decided that they weren’t happy anymore. Meanwhile I’m still between doctors and running out of medicine for my nebulizer. Not that it’s solving the problem, as anyone with moderate to severe asthma knows. Did I mention that the prescription for the nebby medicine expired about five days ago? Yeah, it’s like that >.> I started a thread on The Cauldron and was happy to find another person who knew exactly what I was feeling and talking about. The fear and frustration when your lungs just hate everything about you, the anxiety and pain of an attack, the annoyance of doctor and medicine navigation, the frustration of people who aren’t exactly as supportive and compassionate as you need. It’s nice having someone else who is up at 3 am using their medicine because they can’t breathe enough to fucking sleep.

Today was better than the last two weeks have been. I’ll admit, it was too dry for it to be a perfect lung day, but it was still lung approved and that was nice. I’ll have to remember to bring water with me tomorrow, especially since the bus stop was dusty. I also have to look into HEPA filters now, because that would really help my case. The environmental allergies I have include dust, smoke and pollen as well as mold. I often have an asthma attack after cleaning my room, because dust is that big of a deal, and I live with a smoker. I could at least use one for my room, however, they’re all pretty expensive and some of them are really big. So if you’re reading this and have any suggestions please offer them up.

The kids at work are at least mostly well behaved and make me feel cheerful. Kinda hard to be mad at life when a kid says “Ms Rachael I’m making a blue ice cream man! :D”. And then follow it up with “snowflakes” and “hourglasses”. Yes the kids have given me such things, I keep them in my purse lol

A couple days ago I had a dream I can’t remember. I only know that there was a scene in which I was floating and the fiery sensation that tells me there’s an Other being around. It wasn’t a bad dream or one that made me feel, well scolded for lack of a better term. It gave me the impression of a more informative dream than anything particularly emotional. Still haven’t been able to get more than that, though I had a dream about a hospital and one of my most recurring characters last night. To say the least another character has told me more of her story and so I was writing that.

Oh, please send a little energy and love to my plants. I don’t think my basil will survive, it looks ill. I moved my lavender and oregano into my room where they can get more reliable sun. Unfortunately that’s atop my shrine space, not that I’m really using it, though curiously I don’t think the gods atop it mind. I’m trying to keep those plants healthy, especially through the winter, since it would be nice to plant the lavender in the yard next spring. Who knows, I might keep them as houseplants.

As a last thing, can someone give me some information on Aset? Especially in their personal dealings with Her?  Ciao all.

It’s Hard to Live on Earth

It is. Very much. Sometimes I have moments where I hate the planet, because I know there are problems everywhere. Sometimes it’s just this country, because some problems that occur here are taken care of somewhere else. I have been seriously considering leaving the country this last month. I honestly no longer know who I’ll be voting for other than it sure as shit won’t be Mitt Romney. He’s a liar and a cheat and all sorts of other things. But honestly Obama has lost my trust, because I feel like there were some things he could have done more and things he shouldn’t have wasted his time with, or at least tweaked. Like the bailout, I don’t think he should have used as much money as he did or given it to certain companies. But that’s really not what I care about now. We have nothing but shitty choices honestly and our country has its priorities all screwed up to hell.

This week was a rough patch in several ways. I work with six year olds, that in itself is not super easy, at the very least the kid who is my responsibility hasn’t been having any problems. Yay him, yay me. But, my sleep patterns are, as usual, screwed up. Clearly from the fact that I’m awake now writing a blog post. It’s been cold and dreary, today being the brightest day all week. I’m mostly cold and get chilled easily when I do actually get warm or hot and decide to take my jacket off. I’m really not highly interested in eating because my stomach hasn’t exactly been nice to me. Oh, and the craziness coming back, that affects it too.

You see, about a week ago I started feeling that heaviness. I had been fine, even doing great, for two months, and two weeks ago I felt mentally off. Then last week, here it comes, the feelings that only ill people truly understand when your illness comes back or is coming back. Anyone who has ever been chronically ill, mentally and/or physically, knows what it feels like to notice that a great period is ending and your illness is creeping back up on you. It sucks giant ass to feel it, to know it so intimately that you notice where you’ve been a little odd, a little off, or completely off your rocker.

And it’s like, how do I handle this? Because, as anyone who has been chronically ill can attest, there’s a balance between being responsible and affected and falling into a victim mentality. It’s a difficult balance, especially if you remember how terrifying it can be to have no control over what’s happening. Or how horrible it is to have a couple days’ respite and getting tricked into thinking the episode is ending only to wake up the day after and it has crashed back on you. Sometimes it doesn’t even wait until the next day, sometimes you’ll have maybe two days, maybe a morning, where you feel great and chipper, and then, for seemingly no reason, BAM you’re down for the count.

I think this is hardest to deal with when you’re loved ones are around to witness it. You have to be realistic here, there’s only so much empathy and sympathy in the world. If a person has never had the experience, they’ve never had it. There’s only so much understanding they can gain, and it’s not their fault at all, in fact, it sucks balls for both the sick and the “well”, because they both know there’s a disconnect and the well person wants to help and the sick person wants the help. It’s still hard for a loved one to see you that morning when you seem like you’re getting better and then be completely flabbergasted when the afternoon collapses on you. It’s even harder because there usually isn’t anything they can do about it.

I often fall on the victim spectrum. I’ll admit, I’m a hypochondriac. I act like a victim. And I have all sorts of reasonings and excuses for it. I’m insecure, I’m afraid, I often dealt with contradictory expectations as a child (and deal with them now, but to a lesser extent), depression clouds one’s view, I grew up around people who were victims or who were controlling, of course growing up controlled means you’re used to having no power. Oh I could go, but really, a big part of why I play the victim and find it difficult to break away from (besides the bit about habitual thinking and paradigm shifting) is that I really like being taken care of. I do, I love love love being taken care of. I’m the brat, the spoiled one, the whiny person. I tell people freely that I am spoiled, I told TB when we started dating. He knew from our two or three years as friends beforehand. I am Rachael and I am a spoiled brat and enjoy being cared for. It drives TB batty, not because he doesn’t like taking care of me (he does, he admits it, he hates that he has no job because he wants to take care of me), but because he wants me to be able to be independent and care for myself should anything ever happen to him or our relationship.

It’s not that I can’t. I could care for myself. Do I want to? Not all the time. Sometimes it’s easier and made easy for me to be lazy and push whatever off on someone else. I’ll actually take on a different responsibility entirely if it means I don’t have to do whatever I’m being asked. I’ve done chores to avoid other chores, sometimes I’ll take Nephew over making Sister a sandwich or take a poopy diaper out over taking Nephew. Sometimes I think about myself and wonder why no one has tried to strangle me yet (oh wait, but someone has, but that’s neither here nor there). This topic came up after having a very rough argument with TB. I won’t go into it, especially since it’s resolved and revolves around my lack of communication skills (can you say, physically incapable of speaking when upset? can you say, follow that up with a ridiculous outburst? yeah, that’s me).  Although it has roots in my illness (which I’ll get to later) and the way I grew up (sucks to realize how much like my mother I am) I have to admit that it’s just a set of flaws I need to work on as well.

Back to craziness creeping up on me. Well, I have moments where I feel down for a couple days and get nervous that my Craziness is coming back. I call it that instead of specifying depression because, although it’s my official diagnosis, I’ve doubted it for a while now. It’s not just depression, or depression with anxiety, it’s that and obsessiveness and thoughts, compulsive behavior, wild thoughts and weird giddiness, and ridiculous anxieties that border on persecutory delusions. Yeah, yeah, see a doctor, tell a doctor, tell a friend, but remember that whole “can’t talk when stressed out” thing I just mentioned in parentheses in the last paragraph? Not limited to when I need to express that I’m suddenly feeling bafflingly insecure and unloved because your facial expression and word choice weren’t what I expected. And yes, that has happened before. So, doctors don’t know all that’s gone on and going on in my head, because I can’t talk it out. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I can’t force the words out. I don’t know why, but it really sucks. I can  however, write it out. Which isn’t exactly efficient or comforting to any of my loved ones.

Rerouting myself to the topic at hand, I have moments where I get nervous the Crazy is coming back. Most of the time it’s just off days. Sometimes it’s an off week, but if I really think about it, I haven’t had a legit bout of Crazy in several months. And by legit I mean to the depths I can go and the official two week length required to be Major Depression as opposed to a “milder” depression. I can really go off the deep end, it ain’t pretty. I just know it is only a group of perhaps five people that mean anything to me when I’m in the rabbit hole so far that the entrance is only a star. And let me say, those five people are the only reason I’ve never made a real move to hurt or kill myself (one person in particular keeps me scarless, if you can’t figure it out you fail). Honestly, there have been days I wouldn’t wash dishes because there were sharp knives in the sink. I’ve taken my medicine bottle out of my bag to avoid the temptation, even if I could’ve really used a tylenol or motrin that day.

The memories of what that pain and blackness is like makes me constantly alert to the changes in my mood and thought patterns. Sometimes I’m just being over anxious, but others I’m not. The fact that my period and the hormone changes that come with it can, and have, thrown me into Crazy only makes me hypervigilant. And quite frankly I’m on to the real deal at this point. And it sucks, and I’m terrified, especially since it seems like every true Crazy I get to is worse than the last, even if nothing was happening to account for it. Mild crazy strains my relationship just as much as Crazy, because unfortunately TB gets the brunt of it and doesn’t see it coming. He doesn’t understand, he doesn’t read minds, and he doesn’t know what to do or expect. Crazy is unpredictable and likes it that way. Crazy likes to tell me that I’m horrid and that it’s not fair that TB can’t read my mind. Crazy tells me TB doesn’t love me because he can’t read my mind, or that he’s bad for having any feelings other than what It deems acceptable. Crazy tells me lots of bullshit, and then bounces away, happy with the wreckage. It likes to come back and shout through a megaphone before blowing back in to cause real destruction again.

The only thing about Crazy is that it’s really fucking obvious when it’s there. And I tell my support system right away, most of the time, that I’m not feeling right. I start off the day saying “I’m not feeling great/well/normal/etc today.” Sometimes I’ll get specific, but not always, because then I’ll feel bad for worrying people or causing a potential panic. Wanna know what I remind myself of? That TB came out his house at 6:15 in the morning because I was having a panic attack. And ya know what? Sometimes I still can’t tell him things about how I’m feeling or thinking. There’s always this overarching fear that I’ll lose him or my other supports; that I’ll be called a wolf crier or ignored or downplayed, or they’ll ditch me for someone not so unbalanced. And then where would I be? Alone and Crazy and lost and angry. Scared. Crying, and not even that, because that would bring questions and unfortunately most of my family has shown that they do not take me seriously.

To some degree I wonder if I even want to be treated at times. Normalcy can be even more terrifying that Crazy can’t it? You know what to expect, usually, from Crazy. It’s familiar and you have a lot of help and support when Crazy is there. What happens when Crazy goes away? That’s pretty scary too I think. So is the path to getting Crazy away, because medication is unpredictable and hard to navigate and gets worse when the condition is worse. Not to mention insurance and paying. Wanna know another reason I don’t go out of my way to see a doctor? Insurance. If I wasn’t on my mother’s (HMO) I wouldn’t have any at all. What good is medication and doctors if I can’t get access? Another reason to leave the country, check.*

Balance, even in sanity, especially in insanity is necessary and hard to acquire. Balance, balance, balance. One of the kids at work drew a balance today for me. I dreamt of the class telling me about Anpu last night. To be fair, I completely lost it at Him and Set. I haven’t heard from either of them in a bit and the humongous argument I caused the day before prompted a frustrated and angry outburst that required a lot of strength to keep a lid on. Can’t get too upset when you live with people who you don’t want questions from. Or at least be loud about it. Balance. Now how the fuck do I get that?

*PS, because I know the first thing that will be suggested is to see what aid your state will give you. yeah, Pennsylvania is retarded as fuck. I’m not eligible for most stuff because I’m not old enough to be considered an independent, even though I work and “pay rent”. Did I mention a friend of mine was denied aid because he doesn’t make enough money to qualify? That’s right, he’s too poor for aid. Sister, despite having a baby and being jobless and paying rent, doesn’t qualify for aid because she’s not old enough to be considered independent of our parents. I’ll bet thirty bucks my other sisters’ mom doesn’t qualify for aid even though she has eight kids. Fucking retarded, this state.

Dreams, Music, Plants, and Writing

So, today I got up “early” for Saturday. Ten am basically. This doesn’t seem much of an announcement except for one thing: I’ve been in and out of sleep since five pm Friday evening. I’ve been sleep-deprived all week and the week before, but still, kinda ridiculous even for me. I’m sure I dreamt a lot, but I only remember another scene of cleaning a bathroom that wasn’t mine as if it was mine. In fact, it was the same bathroom as the last dream I posted (did I post it? can’t remember lol) Just in case I didn’t, I’ll hash it out for you.

A few days ago, before I was to go see an apartment with TB, I dreamt about being in an apartment. The main thing I saw was the bathroom. I was cleaning it, which is only unusual if you don’t consider that it’s my favorite room to clean. I will gladly clean a bathroom before I do laundry, just sayin. Now, truth be told the bathroom IRL was due to be cleaned, but it wasn’t Gm’s bathroom in the dream. In fact, it wasn’t anyone’s bathroom that I’ve been in or cleaned. That’s how it started.

There were other people there, in other rooms. I believe they were moving things around. For the most part I was in this bathroom with people coming to the door to ask me questions or show me something. I’m not entirely sure who all was there, but it actually didn’t really matter. I remember seeing only two faces clearly, TB and a woman who I don’t recognize. It could be my mom, but the expression isn’t one she normally gives. Hell, it could be me honestly, I dream a lot in third person. But, that would actually confuse things since I was also talking to this person. I feel like maybe it was part of me or something. I honestly don’t know.

Anyway, lots of stuff that I’m not actually seeing going on, at one point I’m in this hallway looking at TB who is standing by a staircase. The house is dark, there’s only one light on, in the dining room where he’s standing. Everything about this house is dark, the stairs and floor are hardwood, the windows are curtained and the walls are a light color. It’s not gloomy though, I’ve been in several houses with this sort of lighting because of funky window configuration. They’re rarely gloomy, just dim, and there’s always been something ok about it. Comforting and relaxing, though annoying when trying to read. They’re the sort of houses that don’t suffer when there’s a lot of light, be it from lamps or the sun, and don’t shut down into depressing or gloomy when there isn’t.

Either way, TB is standing by these steps and I’m in the living room facing him and talking to him. The house, now that I think of it, does vaguely remind me of two family member’s houses, but that bathroom throws it off, as does the distinct feeling through this dream that it is not anyone’s house except mine and when I say mine I mean belonging to TB and me. There’s no doubt that it was ours, the other people there were of no consequence and were simply helping us get it together and set up to live in. I also had the vague feeling that it was an apartment, which makes me think possibly a duplex or something. I don’t know, I don’t think it matters. He was talking about something that needed to be done, as well as updating me on progress about something else. He was angry, but not at me, apparently there were things that other people were supposed to be handling that they weren’t doing and he couldn’t get them moving.

Nonetheless, that anger was expressing itself in our discussion and we got into a disagreement about how something he was asking of me should be handled. I don’t remember what it was that was so important, it was something that had to do with the bathroom or something of similar importance. It got to the point where he was just like “look, I have other things to handle with this so just please do this for me. I don’t care how it’s done as long as it’s done.” On that we agreed and I went to do whatever it was though the next scene was the bathroom again.

This time though, I had a hand vacuum. Now, I’ve used a vacuum cleaning the bathroom before (I have a lot of hair on my head, which consequently means a lot on the floor, sweeping isn’t exactly the most efficient choice lol) but this was kinda abnormal. I was vacuuming like, a scrub brush (which I don’t use) and like mechanical parts inside the tub. Yup, took a small panel off and some gears and shit out and was vacuuming them. I don’t know for what purpose other than to clean it. Finally it changes one last time, to being in the living room with TB again. This time there’s a black woman I don’t know there, she’s large and wearing brightly colored clothes reminiscent of a daishiki was there. She was pacing back and forth muttering about finding something. She couldn’t find her gift for us and wanted to give us a little money as well. She found the money and gave it to us, saying it was for lunch or breakfast and left. Then I woke up.

Now, I posted this because I dreamt about cleaning that bathroom again this morning, but I don’t remember anything else though I’m sure there’s more. I dunno, it seems whatever that stands for is important in some way. Today was also a day I was thinking about music a lot. My love of it, my favorite ones, how it influences me. My mother doesn’t necessarily care for my music of choice, she thinks many of the songs she’s heard are depressing and has commented before about how the music she listened to when she was young made her feel worse. But of course, where she hears depression I hear liberation. Ask any rock music fan, anyone who listens to Evanescence like I do, Flyleaf, Linkin Park (frequent fliers on my IPod), Lynyrd Skynyrd, KoRn, Nine Inch Nails, Nirvana, I could poll my friends and come up with a massive assortment. They do not hear depression, but release, comfort, understanding. I hear it too, I’ve heard it since high school, tenth grade. When I first heard anything besides suck ass rap and love-saturated R&B, Christian rock and flowing songs, oldies, 80’s and all that jazz it was amazing, beautiful. I never knew such things existed, I’d always been blocked, secretly forbidden, and then a friend came along and had me listen.

Evanescence is my main music drug of choice. Amy’s voice is beautiful, a blasting of emotion into a rough fabric of song, twisting your mind with it until you feel what she feels and it’s like she feels you. Isn’t that how music should be? Some may hear loud noise and incoherent or even destructive lyrics, but no, it’s beautiful, it’s beautiful. This music bangs out the darkness on paper, blares the deepest until the air is saturated with what you feel and what they feel. Almost makes you wish you could write music doesn’t it? Makes you want to reach out and touch those places that bring pain and suffering and relief and release?

Ah look at me waxing poetic. It’s about time, I’ve lost touch with that inner muse that creates poetry. It was my first love in writing you know. The most infamous piece of writing I ever created was called “The World is Like a Cup of Rice”. It was about being poor and rich and different and the same in the world. When I first wrote it some fifteen years ago, someone asked me why the rich people were white rice and the poor people were brown rice. I think, if I recall correctly, that my answer was that both rices are good for you but brown rice was supposed to be a little healthier. I can’t remember if someone said anything about that. I do remember that I lost it a couple days later and was besides myself. It still makes me sad to think of it. I think the gods took it lol I remember that about seven more incarnations came into being because of trying to recapture it. Sure I’d come up with little stories and epic adventures, but they were certainly not written. And they were usually in the context of me and Sister playing games together (ah, Ducks, Chickens, Spiders, Dogs and People XD).

As such, I’ve recently decided that I was going to get back into my writing. Not just my story making, but my poetry. That which connects to the side of me that likes to rhyme and likes to patch words together into beautiful rhythms. The part of my soul and mind that takes the heart of what it sees and tries to weave it into words, tries to capture a hint of what it is and was and wants to be. The part that swims in words and basks in the light of inspiration.

Maybe I could ask my plants for inspiration. Gm bought a new plant today, a big healthy Philodendron that we’ve named Dennis. No, his name will not be Phil, it is too obvious and cliché. I was the one who brought him in the house too. I picked up his bucket and told him “welcome to the house of the plant lovers.” He got nervous as I took him up the front steps, but we passed the front yard plants. Now, I’ll be honest, we don’t tend them like we used to, but we do love them and they often put on a show when I go out to take pictures of how beautiful they are. We still love the plants, even if we don’t get in the garden and play in the dirt with them. I think they gave us good props, because he relaxed when we got in the house. There are more houseplants in there, mainly in the kitchen where I sat him at first while I moved a small table that he’ll sit on.

Dennis is still nervous, he’s in a new house with a dog and a baby and ghosts and other plants and people he’s never seen. The other plants may be nice and tell him good things, but the point remains that he’s still in unfamiliar surroundings. I don’t know how to put him at ease, unfortunately there seems to be very little or very hidden information on working with plants and plant spirits and Overspirits. I also hope to take a piece of him with me when I eventually move out. I think we could get along.

I’m also hoping my other plants will be ok. My basil is suffering this year, but I’m not sure from what, the fact that gnats are pestering it probably isn’t helping. However, my oregano and lavender are doing well. The lavender is still small and probably will be for a while. I’ll likely need bigger pots for all the petite plants, but now I’m just hoping they last through the winter. I want to plant them outside next spring. I also have decided that I want a Venus Fly Trap. Yup, just gonna leave you boggling on that bit of silliness. I plan to get one next spring lol Back to the current houseplants, if I can figure a way to stop the gnats then I’ll bring them all downstairs to hang with Dennis. I think I’ll name the others too, just for kicks XD

Let’s see, Lou and Chassie for the Lavender, Otis and Henrietta for the Basil and Oregano. I find my astral self hearing laughter and snickering XD to be fair, I’d laugh at me too lol

Is It Just Me or Are Things Crazy?

I’ve been thinking about a lot of stuff lately. Religion, work, moving out, writing, brain function, health, and mildly politics are the topics of choice. It’s hard not to consider politics when it’s all over the place from the elections coming up and all this bullshit over women’s rights and such. However, I’m really not that interested now. Both candidates are gonna cause problems, but at least one isn’t trying to tell me I can’t control my own fucking body.

Anyway, as far as religion goes, I’ve been thinking about it recently partly because it’s just something that tends to float around my head at various times and various intensities. Also, I have been thinking of it because I’ve just had a constant desire to talk to Anpu. No particular rhyme or reason, nothing I feel He wants to speak about, just a constant nudge to talk. Any kind of talk, I get the impression He doesn’t really care. Perhaps it’s because He wants me to get used to the idea of talking to Him, I don’t know, if someone can tell me, go for it lol Honestly though, I’ve been sorta ignoring the urge, because I honestly wouldn’t have any idea what to do. Talking seems so simple, but when it’s with a deity, a being that you cannot see nor “hear” in the conventional sense and you still have to worry about sock puppets, well it’s not something you just hop into with ease and fluidity. Especially when you grew up in an environment where speaking with god was sacred and serious, despite the conflicting assurance that you could talk to Him about anything, including wants and needs. Well, I’m only used to that sort of prayer, the daily update, daily thanks, daily request kind. With occasional outpouring of heart and problems, usually in mental/emotional breakdown format. So, just chill talkin for like, literally no reason than just the hell of it? Yeah, not easy.

I mean, I was considering using my tarot as a facilitator, which didn’t seem to meet any opposition from the Jackal in question (in fact, I think part of the reason it kept popping up is because He may have been saying do it), but it was still like, ok but this still seems a little awkward to me. And, I happen to be aware that He’s a busy god; He’s not always in my head, He’s not always immediately responsive if I call out to Him, so, yeah, prattling away like a ninny just doesn’t seem very desirable. Not to me anyway, I don’t feel comfortable doing that, He cares a lot, but I can really go on forever, often repeating myself. And then there’s still the problem of responses and how would I know I’m not just muttering to myself? I am insane you know, I do talk to and argue with myself, out loud, in public. I talk to objects and argue with them when they don’t do what I want, such as stay on a shelf or something. I argue with my brain, talk to a fox spirit, have clinical depression and anxiety, bipolar disorder runs in the family, I have obsessive-compulsive tendencies and I’m a hypochondriac. I am fucking nuts. Stands to reason I’m a creative right?

I don’t know really how to handle this situation at all. I get the feeling He would enjoy me making the effort and mustering up the courage to be a little silly, a little stupid, a lotta awkward, and that He’d like it in shrine (don’t get me started on the state of my bedroom) to just talk and get to know Him better. Alas, I don’t know how to do that really, because I think too fucking much and get too caught up in other shit or am just tired or have no privacy or just get plain terrified. URDOINITRONG syndrome is mighty hard to get rid of when you spend your time being told you’re doing it wrong or have no possibility of ever getting it right. No wonder I was never at peace as a Christian, even when I was enjoying it I had no peace. There was always the thought and worry and shame of sin. It’s horrible. I know it works and brings peace to some people (and good for them seriously), but with the other factors in my life and upbringing, I wasn’t one of those people.

I got into Kemetism to have deities I could get close to and who I knew and could feel care about me, only to realize I really didn’t know anything about the former. I’m so glad Anpu accepted me when I came to Him, because honestly I don’t know what I would do with a pushier deity or one with less patience for him-hawing. He is the Patient One, the Jackal waiting til dusk to retrieve His pickings from the desert. He is willing to wait until His cache is perfectly ripe, perfectly raw and ready to be carried away from the sands. Yup, so glad to be with the patient one. Here’s hoping Set doesn’t decide this is a great time to get loud…. It sucks not to know what you’re doing. That’s the nice thing about more mainstream religions, especially the living ones, there are mostly clear instructions on how to do right and on what not to do. Not so over here! Nope, gotta figure that out on my own.

But, another reason I’ve been thinking about religion is that TB and I are trying to move out before the year is over. He essentially just got a job and is still doing freelance design work and my assignment is school-year long. This is great, especially since today BGF decided that he would, in fact, be trying to live with us. He was seesawing because he’s concerned about his mom having a place to stay and he found one she could afford by herself and is taking her to see it tomorrow. If she likes it, he’s on board with us. And honestly I can’t wait to move out. First off, just the longer I’m stuck away from TB the more unhappy I get. I’m really at the point where it is more than just annoying and inconvenient to not be able to go home with him and see him every day, to hug him and kiss him and annoy him with my obsessive habits and be annoyed by his. It is becoming painful, it is becoming depressing, I miss him dearly just being at home at night. It sucks to wake up in bed without him somewhere nearby.

However, although this is the biggest and most important reason I want to move out, it is not the only one. I also want to move out so I can have space. I do not have space here, I do not have privacy, I cannot comfortably explain why i may want privacy. I love my grandmother and I love my sister and my nephew and Baby Shadow but dammit Sister and Nephew and Baby Shadow take up space everywhere. I cannot sleep deeply because Nephew cries and Sister doesn’t always wake up quickly, or because he never went to sleep in the first place and is wailing because he’s bored or not feeling well. My room cannot be clean because Sister never has time to clean her half and help me sort the communal parts of the bedroom. Baby stuff is everywhere, clothes, toys, bags, not to mention the stuff we grownups already have around. Privacy is a misnomer, there is no knocking or locks, there is no alone time. I’m constantly bombarded by requests to take Nephew, get something for him or Sister, do something for him or her, and it doesn’t matter if I’ve been out all day. I’ll get up at seven to go work for nearly seven hours, ignoring my hour travel both ways and go do errands or take the opportunity to see TB and come in the house at 9pm, only to be asked within thirty minutes to take said baby.

I love my nephew and my sister to death and will gladly take him from time to time and play with him and of course change diapers. I will put my book or crochet or computer down, or let him bang on the keyboard. I’ll feed him, put him to sleep, walk him around (he wants to walk, that means I hold his hands and let him think he’s walking with me) and all manner of things. But, I don’t want to be doing it all the time, or when I’m getting in late or trying to do something I find important. And I don’t want the attitude when I refuse. I love my nephew but he is not my baby and it is not fair to expect me to play such a huge role in his care. I’m a supplement, not a main course.

And honestly this extends to Baby Shadow. He constantly wants attention, to be pet, played with, and no one ever wants to do it because he doesn’t stop. It doesn’t matter if you’ve played with him for an hour and took him on a walk and pet him for twenty minutes straight, as soon as you stop he’s jumping and pawing and shoving for you to continue. And he’s a big animal, so it’s not like his pushiness is easy to blow off. Not to mention he’s nosy and always hoping to get something, meaning he’s constantly in the way or staring at you like you should totally give him some of that cheese please. It’s irritating and exasperating and ends up with a lot of talking, commanding, yelling, popping, swatting, pushing, shoving, thwapping and punching of this dog. And he won’t stop just because you yell at him and whack him on the ass or nose. He’ll back up, but then come right back over. It’s just so cramped in this house!

Everything is crowded and everywhere, the energy is stuffed up and stale, the house is stuffed up and stale, there’s a mild undercurrent of conflict and unrest. Maybe it’s me, but not all of it is. I just want to get out to someplace I can sit quiet or at least not be bothered in the noise. And someplace where I can say “I need to make an offering” or “I need to pray” won’t be met with raised eyebrows or awkward questions. I mean, they’ll always ask why I’m praying since lots of people pray when they’re something other than happy, but still. Sister is ambivalent towards my choice of religion, just a couple notches more enthusiastic than TB but equally supportive, but that doesn’t mean that I can just flit to the room, light some candles and meditate uninterrupted.

I can’t even begin to get a handle on Gm. She’s only made a couple comments about it, and they were based entirely on extremely limited info Daddy gave her and fear over the weird shit that was going on in the house at the time. Refuting them quickly and thoroughly has since brought radio silence on it, but I don’t kid myself into thinking she’s alright with it or would support my doing ritual in the house. And just, I dunno, she just hasn’t seemed very happy or open in several months. As such I want to get out and get some elbow room and energetic room and just a corner where I can have a real shrine and go pray at it without having to worry about tons of noise or interruptions or just being tired and holding a child. Or there being stuff in my way of feeling comfortable and sacred. Thankfully both TB and BGF are incredibly neat and clean so I’ll always have help in that area.

Not to mention I’ve lived in crowded quarters my entire life. Like literally. It’s annoying, it’s exhausting, it’s difficult, especially when boundaries and respect for other’s stuff is lacking or only applies in certain situations. I admit I’ve been guilty of doing that sort of thing, but I’ve been better about it I think, in the last year or two. I just want my own energetic space, even if it’s actually shared space, but with the knowing that I’m entitled to it for myself and encouraged to hold it for myself and feel free, positive and safe in it without feeling boxed in or worried that I’ll get in trouble over something.

The last reason has a lot to do with the highly expounded upon space reason I mentioned above. And it’s all about religion and having religious space and the ability to actually practice with some semblance of ease. Both TB and BGF are aware and supportive of my path and have guaranteed that I’ll have shrine space and respect when I need time to myself for doing prayer or ritual or doing spooky stuff. Knowing BGF he’ll get in on the spooky stuff just because he’s that sort of person. The fact he’s mediumistic and thoroughly insane just lends itself to that. He’d “get along” with Set I think, that would be one hell of a snarkfest XD

Wow, nearly 2,300 words. I’m really going aren’t I? I think I’ll leave it off here and talk about writing tomorrow in a separate post. I had originally gotten on here to write something short about religion and then prattle on about writing, but I see I’ve done the exact opposite. Oh well, I got it out right? Here’s cheers to getting the frustration and complaints out and of course to the Jackal, who shows patience while I stumble around on this path. Good thing He’s a king of wacky paths huh?


Alternate Title: Or, Why You Should Register to Vote With Your Uterus This Election!

So, today, I saw a HuffPost article that I knew was going to anger me. More often than not, I stay away from the news as elections get closer because I’m tired of the conservative GOP ruining everything our foremothers fought so hard for. Also, I’m tired of the constant rhetoric, preaching quality of news articles but, mostly, I know I’m just going to get pissed the fuck off and want to strangle some conservative whore-son with my bare hands. And I wasn’t wrong about the reaction to the article.

For those too lazy to click that link, I’ll summarize the article.

A fourteen-year-old in Florida became pregnant. She told no one about the pregnancy, hiding the pregnancy throughout the entire nine months. After the baby was born in the bathroom of her family home, she…

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