When Hobbies hurt

DR bought me a basic 25 lb Bear long bow.

I tried it out last night on a simple target of just a card board box over a bag of stuffing.  As soon as the string began to slip from my fingers, one of them was screaming in my ear.

There’s a hole under the sink in the cabinet door.

I’m getting tired of random times of hobbies being spoiled…. or is it really that random…..

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You’re aiming in the wrong direction

Fuck your flag.

*smiles faintly at you*

Now that I have your undivided attention.  Let us begin.

Yes, there are children showing off their disrespect for the United States Flag. Yes, it makes you anger and it makes you want to stop it.  However, you would be wrong to stop it. First all of, it’s protected speech.  The Supreme Court ruled that punishment for disrespecting that piece of textile was against the Constitution.

However, they are abusing a piece of woven processed petrel product.

I’ve seen threats to assault them.  To shoot them.  You are a fucking moron if you’ve made this threat.

Beat them and you go to trial for assault and battery.  Which is a felony if I recall correctly.

Shoot them – there are a multitude of charges depending on if they die or not. All felonies.

Felonies equal you losing a lot of your rights. Which I am assuming you already knew before taking whatever action you want to take. You can bet they’ll add the charge “Resisting Arrest” to it.

Look, I get you’re angry. You might even be beginning to feel to the tendrils of desperation working their way through your mind.

You forget a few things.

1) This…. childish display of supposedly speaking truth to power is just that – childish.  It is a symptom of a much larger problem.

2) That flag would not exist if it weren’t for the Constitution, the Declaration of Independence or the Bill of Rights and their other Amendments.  Every day, new bills, acts and laws strip those documents away.  The flag becomes emptier and more worthless with each passing day. The name Old Glory is starting to take on a new meaning….

3) Lashing out at someone over stomping on the flag is a false sense of bravado and one of the most shallow displays of being a “patriot” one can possibly do.

4) The children conducting this are wanting you to react violently to them. Do not give them the satisfaction. Turn your back on them. Ignore them. Do not feed them.

When was the last time you read the Founding Documents?
When was the last time you studied why they said the things they did?
Wrote what they wrote?
Have you read their letters? Their essays?

I tell you bluntly: that precious little piece of material cannot exist with those documents.  The Declaration, the Constitution, the Bill of Rights can and do exist without that flag.  Protect the documents.

The flag will follow in due time.

Throwing your weight in behind a Cause

Should be done frugally. Investing time and energy and money into helping someone must be done with a bit of forethought.  Research, questions asked. The choice gets made sometimes without having to think too hard.

This is one such instance.  After talking to Nicki, I’m throwing my weight in behind her.  At first I was going to wait until I talked to DR…. then it became clear this involved theft of property and some major contract violations.  I knew he was going to be okay with this at that point.

You’ll notice she mentions a child-rapist.  Here’s the links to his court documents:
http://sex-offender.vsp.virginia.gov/sor/offenderDetails.html?regId=11622

His case files are:
CR00000201-00, CR00000199-00 and CR00000197-00 with Warren County Circuit Court of Virginia.

If you’d like to help her out here’s her go-fundme:
http://www.gofundme.com/ste6hug?fb_action_ids=10206379125538628&fb_action_types=og.shares&fb_ref=m_d_ty

She does have a blog, where she has detailed the steps they are taking to try to get their property back: http://thelibertyzone.com/

I’ve got a small plan up my sleeve so stand by for that, but it’ll involve some awesome stuff.

Scars

Skin deep?

Soul deep?

Heart deep?

Mind deep?

Spirit deep?

These are what define a human for me. There is the body. The soul. The heart. The mind. The Spirit.

Spirit being sum of all the prior things.

True traumatic events inflicts scars straight to the spirit. Which inflicts upon all that comes before spirit with is the body, soul, heart and mind. Spirit scars take the longest to heal.

Can the spirit heal?

Through time. Patience.

Did I mention patience? It’s not just patience from other people. You have to be patient with yourself.

You have to take the time to stop and step back and watch yourself. You have cut people off.

You have to accept a type of responsibility for what’s happened to you. It’s not up to anyone else how you interact with others. That’s up to you.

It’s up to you how you heal.

Period.

The Project: The Coat

Uh…what?”

You should be able to listen to that while you read this, if not I’ll be right here when you get back.

Okay ready?

“Evie…why is a Witch talking about Jacob and his coat of colors and the song from Dolly Parton?”

Well first of all it’s a damn good song and Dolly Parton is from an era of real country music. Second of all, Jacob’s story has been stuck in my head the past two days.  I’ll explain why here in a minute, but I’m going to insist that you take a load off your feet first as this might take a few minutes.

So first thing is first, why am I talking about this coat and story? Simple. Damn good story. Good lessons.  Let the lesson outline begin.

1). Jacob was among 11 other brothers and I can’t remember off the top of my head if there was a sister in there. He was hated by his brother’s for a long time. I mean for crying out loud, they sold his ass into slavery…all because his father doted on him.  Dear ole Dad, made the coat from scraps and remnants much like Dolly’s song. (Ever notice that’s the only time you see something like that before the edict about never mixing threads?) It called the most attention to Jacob. Lesson: Do your best not to show favorites, especially if all the kids are still in the home.  These days you may not have to worry about as much, with older kids going away to school, military etc… but the lesson stands.

2) Jacob, got to the point of being second to only Pharaoh because he never gave up.  He was in prison and accused of raping his master’s wife. Back then… that *should* have spelled death for the boy.  Only it didn’t. Jacob had done is absolute best to be pleasing to the man that over saw his welfare and well being which is why he wasn’t put to death. Just imprisoned. Which…could have been ended the same way.  Only it didn’t. He didn’t give up on anything, not his faith or himself. Lesson: keep your head up.

3) Jacob acted in accordance to his prayers as though the best outcome had already been granted. He didn’t know how anything was going to turn out. He still asked his God to take care of him. He acted in accordance to this prayer having already been fulfilled even though he didn’t know if it had or not. He still acted as though things were going to be okay and made the best of the situations. He had the foresight to ask for the wisdom to see clearly his situation. This let him see the opportunities that got him into a position to save his entire family later.
Lesson: Yes, you prayed/cast a spell. Now act like it’s been granted. Do the work to lay the foundation for being able to take full advantage of what you’ve asked for because even if it goes a different direction you’ve enable what comes after that to be even better.

This last lesson is the one that is the hardest for a lot of folks regardless of faith to get it seems.  You have to do the work to open the door for what you’ve asked for. Else you’re going to fall flat, be angry, disappointed and lashing out at folks wondering why it never happened.

Another thing, Jacob asked for foresight to see clearly what to do. To be able to see the small clues that would lead to the big stuff.

If you can’t see the small stuff that’s the breadcrumb trail…what makes you think you deserve what the trail leads to?

Ask for the strength to get through whatever your trials are and the wisdom to see the smallest of the windows, because the smallest of windows can become the biggest of opportunities. It was a lot of little pieces that made the coat remember? 😉

~StormRose, the Witch

Past Blast: That elephant has been in the room so long….

Evie: Written back in June of 2014, this was a strange article to write. I don’t normally talk about these things that happened in my past to this extent, so to be able to lay out was… a bit of a relief in many ways.

….it’s turned into a damn skeleton.  And trust me, if you’ve seen what elephant skeletons look like you agree with me that they are the freakiest of the skeletons in the animal kingdom.  No holds bar even.

I’m going to dive head first into something here, that’s been bugging me for awhile.  It cropped up, maybe a week ago.  It reminded me of a lot of anger I had, and still have in some small chunk that is chained up in a corner and that gets periodically taken out to do some serious exercise so that it keeps losing weight.  It’s a little known demon of mine, that I’ve been working on starving to death.  However, when you know these kind of demons like I do… you know they take forever to die.

We’ll start with the friends conversation (and darling, I know you’ll probably look this over, if you beat yourself up over having caused me some pain, I’m going to hex your computer again. I’ve been needing to nail this to the wall for awhile now). He messaged me on facebook and launched himself in a massive apology.  He’d been going over old photos from when I used to Science Fiction/Fantasy cons (Hey I’ve been a geek girl for a long ass time!) and started to compare the pics of me to pics of me now.

I thought he was going to weep.  He finally noticed, after 4ish years…. how sick I had been.  I was in hell.  This was back in late 2009 I think.  I was still involved with a dipshit, that I’m only just able to even admit to myself that I was nothing more than a bed warmer and…well, yeah.  I’ll let you choose a word.  He was smart enough to never lay a hand on me and never did much in public besides tolerate me.  In private, he was an incredibly fucked up individual.  And that, is as far as I’m going when it’s about him.  Pictures of me from 2010 are probably just as bad.  I try to avoid looking at them honestly and thought I was hiding well enough to where no one was going to be to notice.

This friend… has been the only person to notice and then say something to me about it.  THE ONLY DAMN ONE!  I was balling my eyes out.  He had noticed the difference finally…. out how many folks that claimed to be my friends?  It was surreal at how much it felt like I had just lost some kind of burden.

That tends to happen when you have a good partner.  One that you don’t try and change.  That you leave alone and respect them, respect their choices in job (as best you can, there are times some of his work is absolutely infuriating, but I’m doing my best to not nag him over it.  Do I fail? I know I do sometimes.)

It wasn’t until about January 2012, when I finally got out of that last funk of depression that I start seriously looking at several of my relationships (as plural as in friends not just romantic).  HOLY FUCK!  I was friends with some highly abusive folks.  I looked at myself and saw where my own faults and things that I hadn’t taken care of yet, had attracted that kind of low quality person.

I’d like to think I have shaken all the folks that weren’t good for me at this point.  Maybe some of them found they didn’t feel like we were compatible as friends anymore, I don’t know.  I stopped talking to a massive chunk of the folks I used to hang out, shoved them away.  And I’ve done my best to keep it cordial and friendly at times, and yet again here, I admit there’s been failures at this. I haven’t had any kind of abusive relationship with anyone in about 2 years now.  Most folks will not understand how huge that is, but the Fiance knows and I know, and that’s good enough for me.

Another part of the anger that got pulled up has been this whole bruhahaha over MZB, author and turns out according to her daughter finally being able to talk about, child rapist.

… I greatly enjoyed Mists of Avalon, I will admit that but there is a serious reluctance now to read anymore of her own books.  The reports of her activities (even though at the moment the trail and inspection and presentation of evidence is still on-going) have come out a time when I’ve been finding myself forced to deal with another unsavory fact about my own life again.

I’ll keep it short: the church I grew up in, had a problem with some (Actually looking back it may have been all) of the teenagers molesting and being sexually active with many of the younger kids.  I’m talking three, four five years of age.  And that didn’t stop just because the kids got older.  These teens had in turn, probably been molested by teens when they been at that age.  I never really said anything to anyone, because I thought it was also normal.  (shudder)

A few weeks ago, I find out such things are not isolated incidences. They are pandemic apparently.  It was weird feeling relieved that I was not the only one.

“Damnit Evelyn, can’t you catch a break?”

I did. Two years ago.  There’s a lot more work to be done.  I want to have kids someday AND there’s a part of me going “Look at this!  Fuck you evil pieces of shit!  Look at me, being a mom and not taking my past out on my kids.  Look at me using my past lessons, keep them from getting hurt like I did.  I am doing it and I’m going to keep doing it!”

*deep breath, yarn over hook, pull through loop..*

All right Anger demon, back in your chains in the corner.  I do believe you’ve lost a good several pounds.

You keep using that phrase…

…. and everybody with half a brain is wrinkling their noses in reflexive disgust. This phrase has become a catch all and I’m  not sure the connotations of it have ever been looked upon with any kind of favorable consideration. You keep using that phrase and we all know it doesn’t mean what you think it is. It’s been used in such a manner that to immediately have it appear in conversation invites mockery and ridicule because everyone in hearing distance knows you are lying out your fucking teeth. Your real objective is known.

“But I’m a nice guy.”

SPITS.

Guess what? No. You’re not.

I fucking hate this phrase. It’s the biggest and worst misnomer on the planet.

“Guy”?  You’re so fucking emasculated that you can’t even bring yourself to say the M-word? Does anyone you know even call you that in passing?  You know the word.

Man.  Yes, the M-word.

I have to wonder how fast you recoil and backtrack if someone asks you or calls you it. You sick spineless fuck.

“I’m a nice…” SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP. AND. GET. THE. FUCK. OUT.

No dear. You wouldn’t know how to be nice to someone without strings attached if your life depended on it. You were taught to equate your attention with being something good because your mother did not spank you. You needed it. Everyone can tell.

Any time I hear this phrase I start reaching for a baseball that isn’t there because some poor chump is about to subjected to some tired ass tirade about they should be glad that a “nice guy” like him is paying attention to them. How about they don’t need your pity you self-serving fuck?

This is something that I think a lot of folks ignore or just haven’t noticed. When asking a person’s friends about them, how do they describe them?  Do they use phrases like guy/gal, decent/nice with what seems to a large measure of indifference and a shrug?

Or do they actually use words like man/woman and good/solid friend with a measure of affection and pride in their voice?

“Nice guys/gals” have… a reputation.

Good men and woman should be desired.

There’s been quite a few times where someone made the mistake of calling one of my friends a nice guy/gal. Their shock at being corrected with the phrase “No, they are a good man/woman” is… entertaining to say the least.

Like my fiance. He is a damn good man. He is not a nice guy.

I do not plan on ever calling him that.

My rapists were nice guys. But I never heard anyone call them in passing a good man.

Sunshine on your shoulders

Honestly does make you happy. It’ll make you happier if it’s on your bare skin. No, no sunscreen. Just ten to fifteen minutes of sunshine.

We’re going to talk about something rather personal for me, so sit back with that cup of coffee or tea because this might ramble long.

In case it’s not been apparent, I do have depression problems. They used to be incredibly severe depression problems. For whatever the year leading up to hitting puberty and then for most of my adult life up until about January 2012 was spent in a series of working my way upwards so to speak.  The last real dangerous bout of depression was in the last months of 2011. I honestly don’t remember most of the last two months of that year outside of a beautiful cat, and my big brother and sister (adopted).

I do not nor ever have used medication to treat it. Why not? Given I can’t have three major food groups, am allergic to only the Gods know what else (allergy tests are expensive but on the agenda) and Penicillin, codiene and sulfa drugs…. you seriously think that I was going to risk worsening my symptoms while they played let’s tweak this that and the other thing until they found the right mix? That I would then be quite possibly dependent on for the rest of my life?  Er… no thank you. That is not for me. I like being lucid and not doped up.

Going back to the stages when the depression hit… I don’t remember most of my childhood in passing let alone my teenage years.  I remember my Junior and Senior years a bit more than the rest but they are still blurry.

This ties back into the sunshine bit in a few, like I said, it’s going to take a bit today.

After having the fortune of getting to cabin sit (sound familiar?) things were looking odd for me. I spent 7 months in that cabin, and during that time went through the worst bout of depression I had ever been through because I was finally admitting to things having happened to me that I didn’t want to admit to even myself. January 2012 marked the turning point.

It’s amazing what happens when you finally admit to the shit that’s happened to you and admit you may or may not have been able to grasp it more quickly and avoid so many mistakes.

I was still climbing out of that hole when I ended up not having a phone for about 9 days. Everyone else was freaked out. Me? I was happy. No one could bother me, I couldn’t access any social media sites, the weather was gorgeous save for one day where I just sat with Mindy fire gazing and I was getting massive amounts of sunshine. It was warm enough to be splitting wood in just a tank top and I did.

That was another thing, I was forcing myself to exercise and let me tell you something, chopping wood is great exercise…after you get the technique down.

To use what’s probably a cliche “I woke up.” That’s the best way of describing it. To be honest, it’s left me with not a lot of sympathy for people who kill themselves just because they were depressed. Now, if you’ve actually a disease that you know is going to rob you of who you are (like something terminal like cancer) and you give the folks around a chance to good bye, I’m okay with that. “But you just said-“ I said, you’re damn a coward if you are just depressed. There have been more cowardly suicides than anything else.

That does not mean, that there aren’t other types of suicide. Take Robin Williams for instance. We are just now finding out about all the shit that was going wrong with his body and he knew about it. So while I can understand his reasons, he’s a coward. Because he didn’t give the people around him a chance to say good-bye and make amends where they  needed to be made.  Now do you get it?

Had I managed to commit suicide at any point, I would have been a coward. TURNING THE FOLKS AROUND YOU INTO VICTIMS OF SUICIDE BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T WANT TO GIVE THEM A CHANCE TO SAY GOOD-BYE MAKES YOU FUCKING COWARD. Suicide turns everyone whose ever known you into a victim of it in that instance.

I don’t have a problem with folks who are fully aware that they will shrivel up and mentally stop being who they are in a few years from a cancer or disease, living it up and when things take a turn for the worst, throw a party and let everyone hey, say good-bye. You can try arguing with me, but the longer I stay here and suffer the less I’m going to be the person you know and love. Then a few days later or weeks later, quietly and peacefully, and at that point almost honorably, ending it.

Like I’m saying, you have to let folks have a chance to say good bye and make amends. If you don’t, you’ve just insured they are going to be tormented now for the rest of their lives.

Now, just so folks know… a whole bottle of aspirin doesn’t work if you don’t have an aspirin allergy. It’s what I had on hand and that was when I was about 22. Holy shit and don’t look at very colorful stuff either. I think I managed to only get high off it, which I know doesn’t make much sense. The scars on my writs have faded. I’ve had people ask me why I don’t remove them.  I need the reminder of where I’ve been.

Back to the cabin time. Part of what helped about what happened during the week-off from everything and everyone (remember, no phone for nine days) was it stopped mattering that only a few folks were coming to visit me. Only maybe like four or five people came and visited. That was depressing in of itself. Also had a few interesting incidents with folks thinking it was a driveway to no where and being rather shocked to find out there’s a woman with a Glock 26 informing them they ain’t lighting up on her property (and it wasn’t weed I’ll tell you that much. For those of you just now hearing that story, I’ll be that gels a few things!)

After literally nine days of no contact, separating myself from folks that I needed full separation from and a rather nice tan, I was looking around my kitchen realizing that I was seeing it for the first time. I was loving on my cat for the first time. I was seeing the yarn in my hands and feeling it. Really actually feeling it.

The crocheting, the silence, the solitude, the cat, the sunshine, the time I got to spend working on my friends farm, the chopping wood, the stopping running from my past… those are just the pieces of the process that I can remember off the top of my head that got me here…to this point… talking to you via a blog.  It wasn’t until a few months later that I started putting two and two together about sunshine, vitamin D deficiency and the very serious role that vitamin D plays in depression.

I still deal with depression, the PTSD and some serious social anxieties. I still crochet, a lot as many of you know. Crocheting while sitting sunshine is… *happy smile and sigh*  Part of the problem I’m dealing with right now, is that I haven’t kept up a routine of going outside every day and getting sunshine for about 15-20 minutes (that seems to be my sweet spot, but everyone is going to be a bit different in what they need). Trust me, I can feel a huge difference when I remember to get my sunshine and when I don’t. It’s… disconcerting to say none the least. So I’m working on trying to make that a habit.

Also in March 2012, is when I started talking to DZ, the man who is now my fiance and that I am moving with.  That however my dears, is a story for another time.

When First….

I came out of the “broom closest” it was on MySpace and because I was pregnant. Then… I lost my baby.

Then Facebook… which has been a weird combination of “keep check on folk I care about” and “folks who aren’t sure they can trust me”…..

Now Ello….

Google +….

Darling, I’m just trying to present what I’m finding myself brave enough to be me. Hell there was once the woman known as Ameioka on LiveJournal that was me, and then The_Storm_Rose….

I can’t find my niche… do I really have to make a name and the destroy the walls that keep me out???

Past Blast: -Rubs Temples-

Evie: Not really anything new to add to this one, March 2014 published originally.

It started rather innocently enough.  A casual acquaintence messaged me on Facebook asking me to keep her in prayers.  I said sure, I’ll keep you in my thoughts and add you to my candle.

Her reaction from there went full nuclear retard.

“Don’t you know that’s Witchcraft? WitchCraft is Satin worship!”

Um… it’s spelled Satan.  And not, it’s not. You are thinking of theist Satanists.  I am Witch, not a theist Satanist.  The discussion lasted all of fifteen minutes, with her reciting “christian” diatribe at a pace that leads me to believe she remembered I was a Pagan, and had delibreately contacted me to “save my soul”.

Cunt, my soul is older than you by a good thousand years.  Fuck off.

-More temple rubbing.-

The encounter hurt.  A lot.  Not because of the attack on my faith as I’ve gotten waaaaaaay to used to that bullshit.  Even death threats, which become silent after I remind them it’s called the Second Amendment, we live in the United States and I DO practice it.

What hurt was the falseness of her request. The ingenuity of her need.  (Which reminds me as to why so many who use their magick for others demand payment to ensure the person they are helping really actually wants it.  A lesson for another time.)

“Don’t you know prayer is only real thing that works?”

…. yeah, my response can be summed up as fuck off you ignorant bitch.

First of all, I am deliberately choosing to place you in my thoughts and telling the universe that I’m throwing a bit of my weight in behind you. That I spending valuable brain time, on your behalf as I go through my day, keeping your name in front of the God(s).

Second, candles aren’t cheap asshole.  I have one or two that get lit for a few hours every day and that I meditate on, keeping you within the circle of light so that whatever burdens you’re carrying may gradually grow lighter and you see all lesson pieces as they appear and you are embrace your growth.

Third, be gracious.  If you are aware that the response to your request for help not being the kind of help you want, keep your fucking mouth shut.  At all times.  Don’t badmouth, don’t scorn, don’t mock, just keep silent.

I have dozens of people I think on every day, most don’t even know it and probably haven’t realized I have noticed they are having a rough time.  My list is full of people whom I have never met and whom probably barely notice me.

Why meditate on them?

Because I can, and because there are limits to the kind of help I can give to most people.  Its a kindness to pray or meditate on someone and to take advantage of this makes you a fucktard.

It’s also an insult to the time and energy investment that I make.  Do me and many other people a huge favor: stop trying to waste, take advantage of or bastardize that investment.   When investments have to be taken back, I’m not the one who will suffer.  I’ll just divy that up among the others.  It’ll be you, because the Universe has a tendency to expose people like that for what they truly are.

As for me?   When that happens, I’ll be on the front porch with my best mates, sipping moonshine outta Mason jars, shotguns leaned against the door frame, sitting in the rocking chair and knitting or crocheting, depends on what needs made that day. I wasted time and energy on many a person, took it back in a way and moved on.

That’s what happens when you present a false front.

You get left behind.