tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45954928316454091502024-02-08T05:01:03.018-06:00Tales from the Dreaming"If one dream should fall and break into a thousand pieces, never be afraid to pick one of those pieces up and begin again. " ― Flavia WeednPooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.comBlogger180125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-46216106870430898812017-09-06T01:54:00.000-05:002017-09-06T01:54:01.737-05:00DragonCon 2017<div style="text-align: justify;">
So this year, we went to <a href="http://www.dragoncon.org/">DragonCon</a> as volunteers for <a href="http://www.mechcorps.com/">MechCorps</a>.</div>
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Firstly, this is apparently the 'hardest' convention I've been to. As we were loading in the Battletech pods on Thursday, the day before the pop culture convention even opened, people were walking in the streets in cosplay. This is cool and all, but within the first three hours of just unloading, someone was already carted off in an ambulance. I recall hearing no less that four throughout the convention. Whether or not it was from the convention, I don't know.</div>
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For MechCorps, this is a hard enough convention. The fact they were located in Houston during Hurricane Harvey made it no easier on them. Staffing that convention, it is optimal to have at least six people on staff for a shift. There are three shifts which rotate at 6 hour intervals.</div>
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We drove from Louisville, Kentucky because two of the staffers were family. My daughter and father-in-law. The rest were friends. Two locals volunteered to help. One couple, who go damn near every year, their house as flooded badly. Four people were taking flights, which were delayed or cancelled completely (and let's be honest, if your flight is delayed, you miss a lot of the convention...all because the runways were literally flooded out). One guy and his two cats had to be rescued, and although they were taken to safety, his house stood in six inches of water.<br /><br />But....at MechCorps in DragonCon 2017, all tips, cash and digital, were collected to help out our MechCorps volunteers that didn't make it with us. We flew the Texas flag proudly. Although my family lives in Louisville, Kentucky, I don't think you'll ever get the Texas out of us.</div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mnOorX2UGAk/Wa-ZERrmM_I/AAAAAAAAJv8/R9JEzok0Poggb0970LYutQKCsAzKekigwCLcBGAs/s1600/mechcorps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="528" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mnOorX2UGAk/Wa-ZERrmM_I/AAAAAAAAJv8/R9JEzok0Poggb0970LYutQKCsAzKekigwCLcBGAs/s640/mechcorps.jpg" width="352" /></a></div>
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I wasn't on shift when <a href="http://www.ajc.com/news/local/two-women-dragon-con-hit-chairs-thrown-from-hotel-balcony/uaZ5WPYuyiwROLdzZzvUgO/">two women got hit by chairs while walking on the street</a>, but one of the regulars was there (at DragonCon, there are some people which come to the convention solely to play <a href="http://www.mechjock.com/">Battletech on the VR simulators</a>, the rest is kind of good background). I did, however, go to the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uzg7Scjckd4">costume parade</a>, which was insanely crowded. We were right by the door to go upstairs and see the parade from where the pods were, but we went downstairs instead, my husband putting his niece on his shoulders (because his sister lives near Atlanta, Georgia and wanted to come out and see the family). But as soon as I went to fetch something from the pod bay, I came downstairs and there was a guy on his side, throwing up. From alcohol poisoning or having an epileptic seizure, I couldn't tell you.</div>
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The intensity didn't come from beating the concrete floor for six hours mostly on my feet, nor the hawking in calling out pilot names, but really from the lack of sleep. Hiking three city blocks isn't bad, even though it's hilly in Atlanta. It's the limited allotment of sleep (yeah, you get 12 hours, but in that 12 hours off, for people who need 9 hours of sleep, how much time does that give you to seek out things in the convention, or even find a place to eat on foot?). It's rather grueling. But it's a labor of love.</div>
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What most people do not understand is that when they call us Vols, we are volunteers. We do it because we love the game and we love the people. Hell, some of us don't play the game for the most part, and Vol just because we love the people. The owners do not run it to turn a huge profit. They run it for the love of it, because they want to share the game with players, young and old. The pods are old enough to drink, and they require a lot of maintenance. Frames brake. Chassis break. Rio boards give out. Joysticks come loose. The pods take damage being moved to and fro. This is a lot of work, but it's a labor of love for most of us.</div>
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I am blessed we got to go, double-blessed that we got to see family, and triple blessed that the people we work with are amazing. <br /><br />Will I do it again? If I have the opportunity. Hopefully. Don't know how much longer we can take the physical abuse it takes to do it, but ...again...a labor of love. Hopefully, everyone will make it next year</div>
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I didn't get to take many pictures because my younger daughter absconded with my phone, but hopefully those that went with me will contribute photos to the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/sneakylittlepooka/media_set?set=a.10154720769847633&type=3">public facebook album that I made</a>.<br /><br />So....just remember...if you loved MechWarrior, you'll probably love Battletech. And that these guys aren't in it for the money, they do it because they want to share the game. Charging for the game helps maintenance and repairs, pays for HQ in Houston, and gives a little bit of capitol to make some cool nose art and buy pins and patches to make them available to everyone.</div>
Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-18544253719028338632017-05-06T23:18:00.003-05:002017-05-06T23:20:08.492-05:00a twenty dollar burger<div style="text-align: justify;">
I've been sick as a dog today. Probably coming down with a cold or flu or something. I haven't eat much and I had to go into work.</div>
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After about six hours on my feet dipping and coating caramel and candy apples, I took a break and went down to a prolific, world-wide chain for a burger. I ate sparingly, as I have to do with the surgery, and boxed the rest of it up to go. </div>
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Walking back to work a couple of doors down, an old black man with a walking cane stopped me. "Hey miss, I'm homeless," he said softly, "you mind sharing some of that burger with me?"<br />
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"Dude, do you want it? You can have the whole thing. I only cut off part of it."<br />
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He was surprised. "Uh, you don't want it? Sure!" He happily took the Guinness Bacon Burger (with most of the fries) off my hands.</div>
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So....uh, with the tip I left, a burger and sweet tea there was $26.00 (ouch). I ate 1/4 of the burger, which I cut up and ate with a fork and knife. I still had my tea.<br />
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Maybe I didn't get to eat all of the expensive meal, from being sick and from the surgery. I didn't need to. But I feel okay knowing that someone who might not have eaten that day had a meal.</div>
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Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-62806133292762468542017-05-05T09:55:00.000-05:002017-05-05T09:55:17.112-05:00bombshells<div style="text-align: justify;">
There are two worlds which overlap that our minds perceive.</div>
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The first is the one that everybody wants to see. The rainbows, the unicorns, the magical land of fae. Where dreams come true, where there is light and joy and happiness. It's filled with color, brightness, warmth and hope.</div>
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Then there's that Other Place. The place of darkness, of sorrow, of pain, despair and hopelessness. The place where demons and dragons are real, ready to eat you at a moment's notice. Where if you try to hide in the dark, <i>something</i> is going to get you.</div>
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And sometimes, it does.</div>
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I learned yesterday that the child of a friend of mine I've known since high school committed suicide. Honestly, I can't remember her age, save for the fact she's younger than my youngest daughter, which puts her at 13-14 years old. </div>
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It's tragic. Some kids mature faster than others, true, but at 14.....you don't know what potential life has yet. You're trapped in a situation you have no ability to change, you can only ride through it.<br /><br />But once you turn 18, your whole life unfolds before you. You can make it go any direction you wish. And it's such a short, short time.</div>
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At the age of 18(ish), there's discovery. You're able to break free and go exploring. Wherever, whatever you want, if you have enough desire and determination.</div>
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It hurts my heart so bad.....at 14....that this young girl felt like she was in so much pain, she just wanted it to stop and she felt like she had no one to turn to, no one to talk to. I get that. </div>
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But....killing yourself? It is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. "This too shall pass." "Enjoy the good times, because they are fleeting. And when you are in the bad times, remember, they can't last forever."<br /><br />But she'll never have any chance to see past the 'bad times' in her life. Because she's gone.</div>
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And there were a lot of people she could have talked to. They put her in therapy. I don't know if she was on meds, if meds perhaps made her do it. but depression is a fucking liar - you can't listen. You can't let those things in the shadows gobble you up.</div>
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If you really feel you don't have anyone you can talk to, really, think about calling or texting someone who is removed from the situation - someone objective to really listen. <a href="http://www.spsamerica.org/">Click here for more informatio</a>n.</div>
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I know it's about you, but if you're to the point you don't give a damn about yourself, you need to remember that there are people who love you and care about you, whether you know it or not. Even people who really don't know you because nobody should ever be to the point where they are in that kind of pain that they want to take their own life. Life is so precious. Please...please talk to someone. Anyone.</div>
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<a href="https://twloha.com/">To Write Love on Her Arms</a></div>
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<a href="https://teenlineonline.org/youth-yellow-pages/24-hour-crisis-numbers/?gclid=Cj0KEQjwxbDIBRCL99Wls-nLicoBEiQAWroh6saO3oDCCoaPYfn8wCXxNKOh9K9SlPm5adhdzCrhvFMaAjm38P8HAQ">Teen Suicide Hotline</a></div>
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<a href="https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/">Suicide Prevention Hotline</a></div>
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Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-5235601236690326222017-05-02T08:53:00.001-05:002017-05-02T08:53:43.575-05:00Who died and make you king of anything?<div style="text-align: justify;">
So I've been on my job less than two weeks, but the boss is leaving for a business trip.</div>
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The timing is probably the worst.</div>
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I moved a few months ago to Louisville, Kentucky, and it's cranking up for 'Derby Season'.</div>
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I'm not familiar with this event, but it's apparently when the entire city loses it's collective mind. At least for a month, They kicked off last weekend with pre-Derby partying. I work in a high-traffic tourist area, so it's been crazy-busy. To give you an example, the parking garage I usually park in is $15 dollars a day and was 'open' all weekend (for free, goddamnit - supposedly they're going to get me a badge to get in and out and the company is supposed to pay for it), and going into work yesterday morning, someone must have been so drunk they pissed in the garage elevator, because it reeked of urine and disinfectant...</div>
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(Let me reiterate....the boss, knowing this, did not seem to want to do anything to weasel out of this trip,,,,I would have, knowing my store was going to be rockin'....)</div>
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Anyway, although the boss's woman works there (they're not married, but they just recently had a kid together) and knows more than the collective brain cells (<i>besides the boss</i>) in that entire place, they flew a manager in to babysit me while this was going on.</div>
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Mind you.....I <b>do</b> have a lot of retail experience, I've been very slow trying to talk with the boss in the past week and a half, working on little things that probably need to change in the back end for accountability and minimizing loss of product, so I get introduced to this guy yesterday.</div>
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Automatically, he starts going over 'what's wrong' in the store. Dude, I know 'what's wrong' with what I'm looking at, I haven't really had any time to start working towards fixing that, for fuck's sake. Telling me that basically the next two weeks, I'm his and it's now 'insert-company-name' bootcamp and he's going to 'teach me the right way to do things'.</div>
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I get it, You're enthusiastic. You come from further up north, so your temperatures on your cooking aren't going to be applicable here as easily. But by all means, try it, If you can handle the crew in such a way you get them snapping in tune, fan-fucking-tastic,</div>
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But please....don't get pissed that I call your 'sir' when you're supposed to be the boss of me. Don't talk down to me as if I have never had a retail experience in my entire life, Don't treat me like you're some kind of golden child miracle worker and I am a grovelling, snivelling infantile idiot that has to be spoon fed information. </div>
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That being said, lead the fuckin' way. There's the podium and sceptre.</div>
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Besides that....I'm not going to bitch about my hours, because I'm enjoying my job thus far.</div>
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But he makes me want to pull his dreads out one by one, I assure you,</div>
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Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-28513945969095669302017-04-27T12:17:00.001-05:002017-04-27T12:17:54.690-05:00wreckage<br />
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Some days are good, some days are bad. </div>
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What happens when there get to be more bad days than good? Why, they put you on meds. And it doesn't really solve anything, it just makes it bearable, and you're addicted and have another added expense to your cost of living.</div>
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It's okay. Nobody generally gets to see the mess. In fact, most people don't realize it exists. Which is good, I guess? That makes a person 'high-functioning' with whatever they're diagnosed with.</div>
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But I don't think I was ever diagnosed with anything. Just given a handful of pills to go along with what ails me.</div>
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So, nobody really knows. Nobody saw me burst into anxiety and tears when I realized as my husband was leaving for work, that I didn't make his lunch and he didn't have time to. Generally, women do that when they're scared about the repercussions of that lack of action. Not me - I was just truly distressed that he was going to have to find something else and that it wasn't set in stone he was going to eat during his lunch break this evening. Literally burst into tears. Which is juvenile at best, but probably a good indicator as to how unstable I feel.</div>
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And somehow he feels that repeating, "It's okay. It's fine. It's going to be all right," is somehow a soothing Mantra. Sometimes I feel like he is really trying to convince me, other times I feel like it is something he is asserting because he thinks I'm feeling like the world will fall to pieces if he doesn't say it and it's a chore for him to do so. Oddly, it's all of those things. And it drives me crazy (or, maybe crazier than I already am?).</div>
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But it's time to 'go make the doughnuts'. Or in my case, sweets. It's odd......cooking and serving candy to pay my bills. I just find it amusing.</div>
Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-53512125252308955852017-04-27T00:59:00.001-05:002017-04-27T00:59:14.946-05:00The pods<div style="text-align: justify;">
One of the hobbies I've picked up along the way was Battletech.</div>
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I don't play the tabletop. Hell, I don't even play the PC game. None of those stupid copy cats like Mech Assault and stuff. Grand Ole Battletech in Pods.</div>
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When my husband and I were first together, living on our own, we both worked in the mall, Memorial City Mall to be specific. I worked at a place that's still around called Spencer's Gifts and my husband worked at Exhilarama, which was the old arcade place. You can totally laugh about that. We were married teenagers, working in the mall. He was part of the distinctive team that worked in what looked like a small military-styled bunker, covered in camo. He wore a (sexy) black jumpsuit, combat boots, and played on a computer all day - pushing both geeky kids and adults alike into giant black boxes, shutting a door, and immersing them in a VR setting of a pilot console controlling giant robots to blow each other (and sometimes themselves) up in pretty spectacular ways. At this time, this was the cutting edge of VR gaming, with a whole slew of stars casting in the 'training videos', from Cheech Marin to Judge Rhinehold, and several other stars that were popular at the time. </div>
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Fast-forward somewhere like 25 years later.</div>
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My husband finds this group in Houston called<b> <a href="http://www.mechcorps.com/">MechCorps</a></b>. I don't really pay much attention at first, but then I get to the point where, well, our kids are growing up fast, and I want to have other commonalities with my husband - things we can do together. We've spend most of our lives together raising kids, so focused on it, that we have rarely had time to ourselves. Before we know it, we'll only have one another, so ....kind of only good to have common interests, right? </div>
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Firstly, I'm not a sci-fi person <i>at all</i>. Really. I think that might have to to with the technobabble which comes along with it. Some people really dig that kind of thing, and speculate on how to create it for reals (think about this...remember when Star Trek the next generation debuted? They walked around...doing their work on hand-held tablets....now we have a whole generation of zombies...doing work and games...on handheld tablets...). I was more engrossed by stories than anything else. So beating around that bush, the idea was that I went because I wanted to spend time with my husband, I really didn't give too much of a shit about the game itself.</div>
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Um, truth be told, really....I still don't. I can't tell you the difference between the Madcat and Timberwolf (aren't they the same mech? Depending on what side of the alliance you're on, right? Freeborn or canned, I can't remember which). Or how many chassis the game offers (but I think there's 172 variants?). Hell, I can't even remember how to unjam the guns and missiles when you're sitting in the cockpit.<br />
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But I still went with him, and I found something even more cool than the game itself. <br />
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I found the people that run it.<br />
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This game runs about every Saturday night from 6 pm to midnight. They generally <a href="https://www.facebook.com/MechCorps/">announce when they're open and when they're not in town</a>, but that's part of the fun of being in the MechCorps crew. We were there a lot. We learned about the way the system was set up (probably more the husband than me, I learned more of the gruntwork of moving and setting up), and the nights that MechCorps was closed, generally, it was because either they couldn't find someone to run the game or they were out of town for the conventions they go to.</div>
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<i>Yeah.....these guys tour. Like damn rockstars.....</i></div>
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So in hanging out with these people, learning about them, getting to know them and how awesome they are, we volunteered to help out with conventions. They gave us 'easy ones' first, and then we started hitting the road locally with them. It's kind of cool, because really, they need the help. You volunteer. Which means you help pack everything up, you catch a ride, you set everything up. You work a 'shift' daily during convention and then you get the rest of the time to yourself. They even put you up in a hotel (but be forewarned, they cram 6 people to a hotel room sometimes - you're there to work so it's barracks style sleep. You share a bed or you bring an air mattress). So...it's like getting to go to a convention free.<br />
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But the kicker is this: you gotta be a cool person. You gotta be dependable. And they gotta like you. <br />
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I think we were fortunate enough that even though my husband and I have personalities that are almost like night and day, they kind of found us interesting and dependable.<br />
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I know this sounds like a shameless plug for MechCorps. It kinda is. They're kinda wonderful people.</div>
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Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-5984668189932456822017-04-27T00:58:00.000-05:002017-04-27T00:58:27.326-05:00the blahs<br />
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So my first day was Last Friday and my first day off was today.</div>
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"I did absolutely nothing and it was everything I thought it could be."</div>
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I spent 3/4ths of the day in my PJs, playing Neverwinter on my brand new Xbox One that my amazing husband decided it was okay to buy after the PS3 finally gave up the ghost. It made me sad, but so far, the trade-out is okay.</div>
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I don't have all the accessories and I don't know too much about the platform. It's the fist time I've ever had anything of the Xbox franchise. Not too bad....just wanting to learn more about it. I'm still sore from work on and off, but today I definitely had Nintendo Neck and case of Hard Ass from sitting in one spot for too long, playing the damn game. But It was nice to be just a vegetable. My friends are limited and I don't want to pester the three that I feel the closest too - and I'm sure that the husband and kid are really getting tired of looking after me.</div>
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Yesterday I had a very heart-wrenching moment at work. Humming along, selling fudge, joking around with the kids as I learned new stuff, and a small group of Latino-descent individuals came in. In that group was a guy carrying a long rectangular box. The sight of that box made my heart sink to my toes.</div>
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It was an innocent moment. This family came in to get some fudge on what amounts to Sixth Street in Austin or maybe the Kemah boardwalk. It's a tourist trap with fun places to eat and things to buy. And amidst it all, I wanted to cry some. I didn't....but I wanted to.</div>
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Anyway, the box was imprinted with Louisville Slugger - a personalized wooden bat. When I saw it, I instantly thought of my Dad. That's what made me sad. That's what gave me a fleeting moment of utter heartbreak. Because it's something that I Would have gotten him or Christmas, and It's something he would have really loved.</div>
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^^^</div>
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All that was from Yesterday, actually...the 25th.</div>
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I don't think I feel much different today.</div>
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I got to work today, so eager to get there and start into it that I forgot my badge to clock in. I called my husband, who didn't have to go in until 2, and he brought me my badge at 10:30a. I felt really bad, because I know that even though I told him to go back to bed, just like he replied, he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway.<br /><br />So I brought him home a caramel apple.</div>
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Sometimes I don't know if the meds that I take are working any. Today, I feel that the extent of my life goals will be something close to making sure that I can get cremated after death without burdening anyone financially and being able to survive if my husband dies before I do. I'm stupid at math, so going back to school is probably something that I'm never going to do, which means that the 'most successful' in life I will be will always be middle management in retail sales. I'm not all that bright, I'm not ambitious, and I'm not a 'gold-digger' type. I'm not one of those women who view all other women as competition (there are a lot more of those than most people realize....).</div>
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I think I can live with that.</div>
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The trade off is adventure, I think. I've done more, been more, and seen more than a lot of people in their entire lifetime, so for that, I'm thankful. </div>
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Mainly, I think about how much of a bother I am to everyone, or could be. It costs to live. It certainly costs to hang out with friends outside of the home and then, you know, people wrestling with tabs. That sort of thing. <br /><br />I need to start paying into a cremation service, like my sister did. Like my mother has done. That way they can take care of everything but where to put my ashes. Minimal inconveniences. </div>
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Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-66192740544691156392017-04-21T22:07:00.000-05:002017-04-21T22:16:40.458-05:00caramel covered gainful employment<div style="text-align: justify;">
So today I started a new job.</div>
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I work at a place that's a tourist trap in Louisville, nestled next to the Jim Beam experience and the Hard Rock Cafe.</div>
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I get to sing and make fudge.</div>
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As cheesy as a job as this sounds like, right now, I have no complaints, really. If you're going to pay for higher education and work your ass off to pay off a bunch of bullshit you don't absolutely need, you go into the service industry.</div>
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Service industry can go two ways. You can find a mindless job that sucks that wants you to make you burn you eyes out so you never have to see it again on a regular basis, or you can find one that is mindless, but has a good crew which makes it tolerable while your making a paycheck to do what you really want to do. Or you can go for the third option and do something you feel like is fun, surrounded by good people and you don't ever have to feel like you're working hard because you actually enjoy your work. What is the saying? Do what you love and you'll never have to work a day in your life?<br />
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Hell, I get to make desserts. I get to make happy. Who doesn't want something chocolatey? Or nutty? Or candied apples? Or ice cream? (Other than you know, those poor people with allergies.)</div>
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I have been lucky enough to have an adventurous life. I do owe a lot of that to my husband, who let me try to pursue the things that I wanted to try. </div>
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So far, it looks like this guy has looked over my resume and decided he wants me to be the store manager, that he's going to 'learn me up' and pass off the keys to this place so he can go to the next level. Which is good thinking for anyone that wants to succeed in life and move up in the company they work for. And....I don't think I would mind being responsible for a store that makes fudge. I mean...I know there are always customers that complain, but come on....it's fudge.</div>
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I observed a lot. The guys sing beautifully. I also realized 230 degrees is a magical number for cooking fudge. It is also a magical number for cooking caramel, but caramel bubbles in such a way it spews and it causes tiny 2nd degree burns, no matter how careful you are.<br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">But that's okay. Thunder over Louisville is tomorrow, it's got a spotty forecast to rain, and I will be in the middle of it....giving out samples and selling chocolates.</span></div>
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I'm good with that. I can be a productive member of society and hey, it's dessert...what's not to like?</div>
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Kinda nervous. Texas girl is gonna be working her 2nd day during the Thunder of Louisville. Wish me luck.Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-59673773390624639342017-04-21T12:15:00.003-05:002017-04-21T12:15:55.793-05:00Over 20 years out of practice...<br />
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So I get woke up by 2 text messages from my oldest daughter.</div>
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"MOM HELP I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO"</div>
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"THE SECURITY GUARD IS HITTING ON ME AND ASKED FOR MY NUMBER WHAT DO I DO??"</div>
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Of course, my first response is, "Is he cute?"</div>
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Then I think about this through my sleepy haze, being as I didn't actually sleep last night - I remember looking at the clock at 5:30a before I rolled over...then 8:30a....and her text comes at 11:10a....</div>
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My oldest daughter just asked me for dating advice.</div>
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<i>What the fuck do I know about dating?</i></div>
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<b><i>Really?</i></b></div>
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Think about this. I'm turning 40 this year, is a good, happy marriage of over 20 years. We still make kissy faces at each other, we still are deeply intimate, and we hold hands across the table like newlyweds. I know nothing about the dating scene and with all due respect, I'm going to do whatever it takes to keep my husband <b><i>alive</i></b> for as long as possible, because that's just another reason.</div>
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I would have<i> no clue</i> what to do.</div>
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She did give him her phone number. I told her to<a href="https://www.facebook.com/mechcorps"> take the dude out to play Battletech</a>. That way the Vols can give him a shifty and see if he's legit. I don't want my baby dating some jackass and I'm pretty sure the guys up there are a good judge of character. Some of my favorite people.</div>
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<b><i>Just so everyone knows...</i></b></div>
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...that way anyone nearby can give me a full status report. That is all. Thank ou.</div>
Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-7546960469210298072017-04-18T21:03:00.000-05:002017-04-18T21:03:19.277-05:00high functioning anxiety<div style="text-align: justify;">
When we moved from Houston, we left the older one behind (it breaks my heart still...I feel like I abandoned her...) and the younger one came with us. Now it's like she's an only child and she happily saps whatever I have to spoil her with to her heart's content. Of the two, she seemed quite a bit more fearless and intrepid, with a penchant for all things Gothly and horror movies.</div>
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Recently, my PS3 bit the dust. This actually created a lot of internal turmoil - that thing was with me right after my sister passed away. My husband gifted it to me, giving me something else to do other than work and sleep (and see my way through a handle of rum or vodka every other day or so). It let me immerse myself in a game rather than dwell on the fact that I was now having to take time to go through my sister's things and get rid of much that was of no use to anyone anymore.</div>
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My sister and I gamed a lot. Not....gamer girls, you know, the pretty ones that pose licking controllers or whatever, but actual female gamers. I loved RPGs and puzzle games, while my sister loved platformers and action-packed games. And we worked oddly well as a team that way. When I played, she'd listen to me logic out stuff and make suggestions and vice versa. When she was sick and living with my mother, I came to visit while I was training for Walmart in Dallas. She was playing Prince of Persia, sands of time. We had dinner and visited and she was suddenly hit by the notion of showing me the game, where she was stuck. She showed me his cool abilities and how he moved and the area where she was stuck. I was immediately focused. After a few moments, I asked, "Did you run across the wall to that platform and try to run up that ledge and jump over?" She blinked at me once or twice, then did it. She shook her head. "I've been stuck there for a week," she said in disgust. And...that's kind of how we gamed.<br />
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My girls have grown up gaming. One is very into Pokemon. The other....into the same types of games my sister played - anything and everything. Except she will play horror games.<br />
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Now, for those of you who don't game, there really is an entire genre of video games out there filled with blood, guts, gore, jump-scares and all sort of sick and twisted shit. Really. Stuff that makes most people's hair crawl.<br /><br />At one point, I observed my youngest playing one of these games, so somewhere down the road, I got it in my head that she really likes them. <i>I can't even watch horror movies, much less play video games like that</i>. So living vicariously, I buy them for her. When she sits to play them, she just makes commentary like, "Ohhhh......oh, that's not good...." Or snarky stuff. "Yeah....so you took my hand. I still have a gun." I took this as fearless and really into it, so...I continued to buy those kinds of games when the PS3 died.<br />
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So after a few days, she's playing something called Ori the Blind Forest or something like that. It's a beautiful game. But the other night, I was like, "Honey, uh, why aren't you playing Resident Evil or Silent Hill or something?"<br /><br />She looks at me like I've lost my shit.<br /><br />"Mom, it's late at night. Are you crazy?" she asks.<br />
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"I thought you liked those kinds of games," I replied, uncertainly.<br /><br />"Mom..." she says, teen-splaining it to me, "yeah, but c'mon. It's a horror game. I won't be able to sleep tonight."<br /><br />Then I realize she is actually gets scared with those games. And state as much.<br /><br />"Of course I get scared. They're damn scary!" <br /><br />I shoot her a sideways look. For some reason, she's getting into the habit of using <i>those words</i> around me a little too fluently. "Taindee....you mean to tell me that those games where something is trying to eat your ass or kill you actually scares you?"<br /><br />"Of course, ma! Geez!"<br /><br />So all that snark, all that very controlled conversation with the TV that sounds casual, is actually my child chattering out her fear and playing the game anyway.<br /><br />Damn...I wish I could do that. Even taking an anti-anxiety med, the idea of it sends my mind crawling up walls.<br /><br />So every now and then, like I said, vicarious living - I hear her say something snarky and I have to walk through the room with my hands over my eyes, peeking a bit, as she fights the shit that was born of someone else's nightmares.<br />
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I do gotta say, I think we both kinda freaked out when the dude was running after her character with the chainsaw. That was a bit much for us both, regardless of my meds. <br />
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So she doesn't play those games after dark and that's fine by me.</div>
Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-87474611120302562742017-04-18T14:09:00.002-05:002017-04-18T14:09:31.915-05:00Trying to get back in the saddle....<br />
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The last post to this blog was in 2013.</div>
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Shit.</div>
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After friends poking and poking me, I think I'll try to take it up again. The whole blogging thing. At least then someone will get the happy thought they can go somewhere and read the bullshit I have to say and be done with it.</div>
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Maybe that's why I can't read anymore. Because I need to write.</div>
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In fact, I'm not even going to go back and try to see where I left off, other than that month and that year. Um, so around 2013 to about now in a few lines....or...you know, as the first blog entry, I guess.</div>
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I went to trucking school because my husband said I couldn't do it. Did it for three months, rolled a rig on it's side 180* and laid it gently on the side of the road (unbelievably glad that it didn't rip the arm off my co-driver, who I adore, but her cat totally shot out the broken window when the truck came to a halt and we never found it, which broke my heart. He was a beautiful tuxedo cat and was sweet - lost somewhere on I-10 right shy 3 miles of the Florida boarder - named Rio). Did some recovery and dropped LSD (an analogue, don't judge) about every weekend for a solid four months (which is probably why I didn't wind up with PTSD in regards to getting in a big rig again....I think I could still drive...they never called me back....the official reports said that it was mechanical failure...I waited and basically my CDL expired....whatever). Walked into a head shop looking for a pipe for my friend's birthday and wound up with a job behind the counter. Worked for a month there as a clerk, became a store manager. Worked solidly for four months straight without a day off and became the purchasing agent/warehouse manager for the chain (5 stores), helping out the general manager because she had her IUD ripped out of her body, got pregnant with twins, and was all-round miserable the entire time (which, that was a funny story too, the 'Hey, I'm pregnant' thing, but that's for another blog) and at some point in that first few months, had to take a week off because I had fibrous growths on my uterus and a cyst on an ovary so bad it was encapsulated (I think everything was taken. She did leave me an ovary, which, the first 'period' I had after....holy shit, was it pissed off that it was doing the job all by itself...it HURT....). Learned more about weed and drugs than I ever did in high school in the duration of 1 year. Got 'laid off' because I took the time off to get gastric bypass surgery. Got a job as a dispatcher at an AC company. Office was quiet, folks were nice and down-to-earth country livin' types. </div>
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A year into that, life went to hell in a handbasket.</div>
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In October of last year, my dad died. It was a paradox of thought - I cannot say it was unexpected, but it wasn't expected. I knew he had a bad heart and I imagined a heart attack would eventually take him out. I had just hoped that he would live long enough to see both his granddaughters graduate high school. I loved my father so much and I even though we did not see eye to eye on religion, we had a good relationship. I just didn't get to see him enough. So now it just leaves me, my mom (three half-siblings which live literally on the other side of the world), and my stepmother.</div>
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A couple of weeks before my dad died, my husband and I had been talking a lot about my need to sleep more. It's gotten to the point where he wanted me to seek medical attention, so I went to see a shrink. Who wound up giving me an anti-depressant, an anti-anxiety med, and a sleep pill. Two weeks later, my dad drops dead of a heart attack.</div>
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That was perhaps the only reason why I could stay and still stay relatively calm about the whole affair. My emotions are chemically castrated. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad. In this case, I don't know how I would have made it through the past few months without it. </div>
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A week after my dad died,, my husband got laid off. Breadwiener of the family at the moment (Bread Winner - title given to the majority payer of the bills.... Breadwiener - same diff, save for the fact that we can tease each other about it from time to time), this was Really Bad. At least in my mind, adjusting to meds. Within the week after, he gets it into his head we need to do what we talked about years ago, right before my sister died. We needed to move to pursue our spiritual side.</div>
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Um, okay. I had thought earlier that we'd hacked out a sort of four year plan to get our youngest daughter out of school and then us move out there, but sure. If that's what he wants. I am really in no condition to be making life decisions two weeks after my dad died, but hey, we're a partnership, and at the moment, he's more than welcome to take the captain's wheel while I go starboard and hurk my emotional guts out.</div>
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So, the kicker was that we moved to Kentucky to learn witchcraft. No shit. Specifically, British Traditional Witchcraft.</div>
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Who had any idea that Louisville, KY, home of the Derby, housed so many traditional witches in the US?</div>
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But during all of this whirlwind of insanity, there had been a plan. There was a plan kicking around before I got laid off from the head shop gig about going to Thailand for at least a month. That plan had not changed and it was for January of this year. That actually was several blog posts worth of shit, but if you're not on my facebook then you missed it. I will, however, give you one picture (because, you know, thousand words):</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7JIRk7M1L24/WPZfpPomyvI/AAAAAAAAJSM/vEw78pzPREcjkAzY7l7ftztMUgINADbrACLcB/s1600/whitetemple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7JIRk7M1L24/WPZfpPomyvI/AAAAAAAAJSM/vEw78pzPREcjkAzY7l7ftztMUgINADbrACLcB/s640/whitetemple.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> (<i style="font-size: medium; text-align: start;">If you want to know more about this place, look up <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wat_Rong_Khun">Wat Rong Khun</a> (see? Isn't it spiffy of me to provide you a link to the wiki for easier access?)</i><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">.)</span></td></tr>
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Anyway, amazing lifetime adventure, get home, flight of the bumblebee packing, head towards 'home'. When I get back into town, I get generics for my meds. This....was okay from the one I was taking, the mail order that does three months at a time? I don't think it works the same.<br /><br />Husband's insurance hasn't kicked in yet, so I'm into the last month of what I've been prescribed and I gotta find a shrink. All the while, I've been looking for a job since the beginning of February. I think I found one.<br /><br />Having been an assistant manager with Walmart kind of gives me a little street cred in the retail arena - it's not an easy job, you really kind of get paid dick for the amount of stress involved, but because you can handle that, you can handle just about any kind of middle management hell they want to stick you in.<br /><br />So...uh, the first gig I've gotten a good response from is a singing fudge factory. And that's not some sort of euphemism for anything else. Literally, your job is to sing and make fudge. As an assistant, it just includes key turn, deposits, cash flow, and supply chains. 'Supervising'.<br /><br />I keep telling people....I really just can't make this shit up.<br />
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So right now, my life is compromised of domestic tranquility of sorts (I try to keep shit clean, my cooking hasn't poisoned anyone yet, and maybe the laundry isn't folded, but it's been washed and put in the general vicinity of where it's supposed to go). I'm fucking around on the computer, waiting for all the paperwork and red tape to put me into the candy-making store in a highly 'entertaining' part of town, trying to keep the cat from tossing it's cookies everywhere and diligently taking meds, trying not to worry about when they're gonna run out if the insurance has kicked in or not. Occasionally, practicing some spiritual stuffs. I watch my 14 year old kid (almost 15, she keeps reminding me) walk through the house painted in grey body-paint with white out contacts (Not as Goth as you think - she's a coplayer who refers to herself as Homestuck Trash....<a href="http://www.mspaintadventures.com/?s=6">some sort of web comic</a> where there are quads of feelers.....you'd have to read it. But everyone that IS Homestuck Trash advises against it. My husband works second shift, so things are just a bit weird so far.<br />
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Other than the coven we'd joined prior and the politics involved in having so many covens so close, I don't really talk to anyone or haven't made any 'friends', save for this nice burner fellow that likes to breathe fire and kind of fancies himself a circus kid - all good. Somewhere in the above paragraphs of what I've been doing, during the time I was working at the AC company, my friend introduced me to a local Houston group that fancy themselves by the name of 'Burners', a collective of artsy people who lifelong goal is to party at the feet of the Burning Man effigy at Black Rock City. Nice people. Did some arting with them. So when I came out here, I tried to find a few....Zootch is the only dude I've met so far.<br /><br />I'm sure it's just going to get weirder. Or more normal for me, anyway, even though it seems lonely. I keep telling myself I just need to give it more time.<br />
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Anyway, my fingers are out of practice. I'll just try to write more stuff tomorrow.<br />
<br />Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0Louisville, KY, USA38.2526647 -85.75845570000001337.853296699999994 -86.403902700000017 38.6520327 -85.113008700000009tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-60829540845995704232013-04-04T22:54:00.003-05:002013-04-04T22:54:42.629-05:00Wonderful television series and why the fantasy genre always gets an edge...<div style="text-align: justify;">
I used to never really watch TV. That's okay, because of the past few years, I've picked up a few shows that I really like. </div>
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Through the aid of modern technology and Netflix, I have become addicted to the newer Dr. Who (was never big on sci-fi), the Walking Dead (was never big on horror), and Bones (but I've always loved mysteries!). My PS3, which I watch more shows on than actually play games, has made this possible. My family and I watch a lot of these crazy shows together.<br /><br />The most recent DvD I picked up has been The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. I know I'm kind of on the late bus for that, but I have been at the point in my life (a while back) where I just really didn't care about what was new, hip, or trending. So ....while people pay astronomically stupid amounts of money to go watch shows with a hundred other people and overpriced popcorn, I just wait for the release on DvD...and now, Netflix.<br /><br />I have to say though, that when it comes to spending money on useless junk, that generally the fantasy genre wins hands-down every time. I mean, yeah, it would be neat to have a $40 sonic screwdriver pen, but why buy a pen when I can get something as cool as Gladriel's ring?</div>
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<br />I know, I know, I painted the door like the Tardis. And it's cool and all. But to me, a reproduction of a magical ring, maybe some Gryffindor striped socks, or an elven star is something you can probably wear and get away with easier.<br /><br />Not that I haven't seen a friend sport a Mockingjay pin, or even people with steampunk gear...but somehow...a 'prop' that's sci-fi and doesn't work doesn't seem as cool as a magic ring or talisman....that <i>might </i>work... I dunno. Leave it to the imagination of someone who believes in magic to come up with that kind of backwards logic.<br /><br /><br /></div>
Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-88444116971048066172013-03-09T08:10:00.002-06:002013-03-09T08:10:08.534-06:00just the awe<br />
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I have no reason why I woke up at 5 this morning (I am NOT the morning person...), so I took the freshly-made rye out of the bread machine (which I bought recently at a<i> FABULOUS </i>deal) and started some wheat-flax, then baked cinnamon roll waffles in the waffle iron. I hear mom shifting about, so this morning, we attempted to call my half-sister in Thailand.</div>
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I dial out the phone numbers through a 5 dollar calling card, hand the phone to my mother, and hear a strange, long beep. My sister in law answers the phone, and my mother and her begin a loud exchange over my cell phone, which mom promptly takes outside. It's 8 am here, the sun is just beginning to break past the city skyline, and there's enough light to see so she's outside watering her Asian corn and talking to my sister in Nan.</div>
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It's moments like this I find remarkable. Thirty years ago, any phone call attempt is kind of hindered through international lines, costs a fortune, and you're dealing with operators along the way. Now....somewhere, a signal bounced from this hand-held device, across the atmosphere, and over half a day and half a world away. For less than five bucks.</div>
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The timbre of Thai, the singsong language of my mother's people, I find soothing. Perhaps its the inflection, or the knowledge that whatever she's talking about (I don't understand the mothertongue) is totally mundane and the chatter of a loved one calling you, but it sets me at ease. The rate at which our technology has advanced is astounding, but I'm grateful it makes it possible to connect my mother to her family in Thailand, from which she has been isolated so long.<br /><br /></div>
Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-36946707117543938232013-02-24T22:37:00.000-06:002013-02-24T22:37:43.918-06:00The Time Lord Door<br />
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So of recent, I've been on a Dr. Who kick.</div>
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I don't care too much for Sci-Fi, but really, I kind of enjoy the modern incarnation of Dr. Who. My father has a passion for Sci-Fi, as do many of my other family members and friends. But...all the technobabble and such really is kind of a turn-off for me.</div>
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I particularly like David Tennant. For the short-lived incarnation before, and the 11th Doctor (who..well, I just got into that season on Netflix, so we will see), I think that Mr. Tennant brings a beautiful element of compassion to the playful eccentric attitude in which he plays the good doctor. So...in tribute to that thought, I decided to make the outside facing back door of <a href="http://www.facebook.com/blessingsinbetween">my shop</a> disguised like that loveable blue police call box.</div>
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Firstly, my sister was quite the artist. She got a degree in art, and I think for all intents and purposes, I felt overshadowed by her talent. It took me quite some time to realize that regardless of how wonderful her art is, that in my own form and fashion, I too am an artist. So I gave up on perfection or out-doing my big sis, and just kind of started doing my own creative thing. Perhaps most people don't recognize me as an artist - I don't care. I mainly just claim to being creative and witty, both of which pay poorly, but are more fun at gatherings.</div>
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The blue door has more meanings though, too. It is fitting that it is the Tardis. A time machine. The blue in and of itself reminds me of happy moments. One in particular (and kids, this is AFTER I started the project...here I am, gently caressing the door with my brush, trying to invoke a specific color...and with it, certain memories come rushing back) of taking portraits in front of a blue door. Others from school. Happy moments, which have drifted off into time, letting me gaze back in the wake, sometimes wistful.</div>
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But it is art, and it will move forward. And we will see what comes of it.</div>
Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-43645240615033304102013-02-11T11:20:00.001-06:002013-02-11T11:30:39.787-06:00Preparations<p dir=ltr>So Mom and I have been talking a lot about what we would do if anything ever happened.....and after talking about it, we decided that going the route my sister took was easiest on everyone.  She was cremated through the Neptune Society. Everything was so easy and it was appreciated. And there is even a payment plan. </p>
<div class='separator' style='clear: both; text-align: center;'> <a href='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-GR6x7CMa3a8/URkoUxLiVjI/AAAAAAAAAhI/qMsVct6bSw0/s1600/20130211_111705.jpg' imageanchor='1' style='margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;'> <img border='0' src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-GR6x7CMa3a8/URkoUxLiVjI/AAAAAAAAAhI/qMsVct6bSw0/s640/20130211_111705.jpg' /> </a> </div>Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-12764488431375539132013-02-09T18:18:00.001-06:002013-02-09T18:18:29.456-06:00At the market<p dir=ltr>So, at the market, things have been interesting.  They have had cukturak dancers all day. The kids have haf fun, recording and watching. I love seeing traditional dance of other cultures.</p>
<p dir=ltr>Instead of collecting useless stuff (I dunno...sterling is nice to look at, but who realky cares about some piecemeal, used set bought off Ebay?), experience and <i>seeing</i>, they seem to be worth more to me. Just saying.</p>
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So, yesterday, <i>at the last minute</i>, my eldest daughter explains that they are having a Christmas Party for her AJROTC group at her high school and she really-really-really-please-mom wanted to make cuppy cakes.</div>
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Being a moderate fan of the tiny little sneakable baked goods, I do the mommy mutter all the way to the store. Bobble-head is in tote, squee-ing over the idea that she's baking for her friends. She settles on lemony cuppy cakes, lemon and strawberry icing. When we return home, she sets about destroying the kitchen. </div>
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Standard Operating Procedure for a teenage kid with a sweet tooth.</div>
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Anyway, late into the night, the smell of warm lemon wafts through the house. I start in on the whole be-a-responsible-adult-thing. "Now, darling, you realize you need to clean this mess before you go to bed, right?"</div>
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"Yes, mommy!" </div>
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"All right. I'm off." And so I go to bed fitfully. Stupid cold, stupid congestion.</div>
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I wake up to a catastrophe of epic proportions. Shuffling down the hall and by the kitchen, I realize all the lights are off, save for the artificial glow of the white yule tree beaming at me good morning.<br /></div>
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Ugh.</div>
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I tap on doors now, waking kids, who probably should have been awake at least half an hour before me. When I reach my teenager's room, I call off into the darkness.<br /><br />"You awake?"<br /><br />"Am now."<br /><br />"Good....because man, you're gonna be late."<br /><br />Then I proceed to explain to her that when I say the dishes have to be done before she goes to bed, garsh-dern-it, they have to be done before she goes to bed. I'm not mean, but I'm like, "Really? Seriously? What part of dishes-before-bed got lost in translation?"<br /><br />With a groan, she sets about hurriedly doing all of her morning getting ready activities at top speed. During this time, the trooper doesn't really complain, she just focuses at what she's doing while I take her younger sister to school. It's only a few blocks away, and by the time I make it home, the teenager is now at the end of the driveway, balancing two plates of cupcakes on one arm and has a cake carrier full of cupcakes on the other (and a jacket over that arm, and a backpack filled to capacity slung on her back).</div>
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"Can you drop me off at the JROTC building and then take me back to the main building so I'm not too terribly late? I have a test this morning."<br /><br />"Crud, what do I look like? Your mom or something? A taxi?"</div>
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She giggles a bit and tries to figure out how to squeeze into the <i>autobot</i>, so I roll my eyes and take the cake carrier with a long-suffering look.</div>
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As we make our way to the giant hamster playscape that is her high school, it is not uncommon for cars to stop on the main thoroughfare and drop kids off, holding up all of those diligent parents which drop our kids off at the specifically designated drop-off lines. A kid pops out of the car in front of us and shuffles along hurriedly. My daughter rolls her eyes and mutters a name.</div>
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"That kid has no integrity whatsoever."</div>
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I personally thought that comment might be a little harsh. I mean, he's a kid, and I'm just one of those fools that believes most people are basically good people.</div>
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"What makes you say that, dear? What is the definition of integrity?"</div>
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"Integrity is doing the right thing, even if no one is watching," she recites, being that it's part of the creeds and definitions and what have you that she has to memorize for JROTC.</div>
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"Hmm. Well, what makes you think he doesn't have any?"<br /><br />"He's <i>always</i> late, mom. He never dresses the way he's supposed to, never tucks in his shirt. And never has his badge. And he's really disrespectful to other officers."</div>
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I thought of this a moment. "You know, when I was ya'll's age," (I think I died a little when I said that) I said slowly, "I did the right thing when no one was looking. But I didn't care much...for rules. Like tucking in your shirt and stuff. Why should there be a rule for how I dress?"<br /><br />"But mom, there are gangs."</div>
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"Well....maybe there are gangs because people don't like to be told every rules for every single detail of their lives. Maybe if there were less rules, there might be less rule breakers."<br /><br />Yeah, I was kind of surprised that came out of my mouth too, as she looked at me (as I looked at her, as I tried to drive 20 down the street and not hit kids).</div>
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"Maybe."</div>
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So as she made her cuppy-cakes-like-drug-run drop-off, I thought about what I just said, and I thought about her responses.</div>
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My daughter wants to be a Marine. To our family, and in regards to our friends, serving our country is an honorable thing. We don't always necessarily agree with choices which are made, with war, but we do have a lot of respect for those that serve. And while I applaud the idea that she is learning discipline, honor and courage, I also want to make sure that if she is going to follow along with the herd, that she is keenly aware of the exit gates conveniently located throughout the pen. </div>
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As we grow older, our choices get distinctively and even more complex. Add in the responsibility of guiding another person through the darkness with you, someone who depends on you (heck, I have two, and a partner in crime that is muddling along in the darkness with me), and it makes for a really insane run through the starless night. Since 'perfect' isn't anyone on the horizon of my life or my person (Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if it had a ghillie suit, bought itself a new identity, skipped down and was on the first boat to some uncharted island), I have a lot of those, "WTF ARE YOU THINKING?" moments.</div>
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This morning just happened to be one of those moments.</div>
Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-6929695755856936522012-11-28T11:31:00.001-06:002012-11-28T11:31:10.251-06:00the media<br />
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I realize that in the past few years, and more importantly, the last few months, that I rarely watch TV. And rarer still, the news.</div>
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Sometimes, I flip it on in the morning, just to see the weather reports. But I realize that it probably has about a %40 accuracy rate, so generally, I just don't.</div>
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About the only TV I seem to watch now is Netflix through my PS3. Reason being is that I can watch a story (sit-com, drama, series, etc.) without interruption. Or I can see a movie that interests me (on occasion...you should ask my husband or my friends how hard it is to get me to go watch a movie with them).</div>
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But mainly, I really just hate the fact that there are so many reports on bias media. And how the media doesn't really objectively report anything. And all you really see on there is death, destruction, and murder. Every now and then, they make a shallow attempt at showing something meaningful. On occasion, someone does. But really, it has come to the point that no news is good news.</div>
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There's a lot you don't see on TV. That's what you have the internet for. But it's hard to get people to report what FOX or CNN or any of those channels won't report. Kind of makes me hate the whole thing all together.</div>
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So between the word I get from friends, some select internet sights, and NOAA, I'm pretty set.</div>
Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-69867378223576606312012-11-17T22:44:00.004-06:002012-11-17T22:46:46.817-06:00Day of the Dead - post mortem?<br />
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I've had the unusual blessing of being able to witness various traditions when it comes to this time of year. October is generally Harvest Moon, Wolf Moon, and the time is marked as the time when the 'veil between the worlds is the thinnest'.</div>
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I lost two people I loved about a year and a half ago, and I have always been an individual that prefers to deal with my own personal griefs in private. So recently, this has become a very strong, personal thing for me. </div>
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The <a href="http://www.facebook.com/SumerianGatherings">Sumerians</a> introduced me to Eereshkigal and Nergal, and the festival of Nattig. Following the descent of Inanna was perhaps the first time I was ever able to really begin come to grips and understand death. As the demons followed us in the darkness of the unknown(demons are neither good nor bad, they are spirits, unhuman creatures in Sumerian mythology), unseen and untouched, only heard. It was an amazing experience.<br />
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The sum of the experiences for me of this 'end of the growing year', the time of the Dead, is learning the understanding that Death comes for us all, Death is no respector of persons, and whatever our struggles and challenges, it is all part of our natural course. We should not have to fear death, we should have a healthy respect of it. Death touches every aspect of our lives, and most of the time, we only see it when someone passes in such a way as they go to the grave. There are a million deaths which touch us, that most do not consider. The death of a way of life, the destruction of an idea, even the passing of a friendship. We must take a moment to consider these deaths, mourn the passings in our own way, and then rebuild our lives and move on. <br />
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I've had a lot to mourn over the past few years. I have had some very radical job changes, moved across the state, lost relationships, friendships that I had believed were steadfast, and dealt with the deaths of my siblings. It's been a lot, and there are times that I have felt apathetic, and other times where I was so crazy-feeling that I lashed out at those close to me. I hope that I have repaired things where I could, and where I couldn't, well, I hope the best for those I parted company with. Maybe the death of one thing will lead to the birth of something new, or the rebirth of something old.<br />
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So as the cold of winter creeps across the land, laying waste to the green things....as the wild Hunt roams the darkness, know that in the deepest of the cold, the deepest winter...that somewhere in the darkness, is the spark of hope. The tiny light. The promise of the return of the sun. The promise of life, even after death.<br />
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Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-11588261114870613542012-10-24T11:08:00.000-05:002012-10-24T11:11:42.517-05:00The Call of the Anonymous<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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If our culture was more focused on the arts and education, and the idea of compassion and civil action, maybe things wouldn't have gotten so far out of hand. In a time where capitalism is priority and people are left to scrounge, there has been a long season of discontent.</div>
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About every few hundred years, it seems that governments have some sort of revolution. In an age of 'civility' and so many interesting and quick ways to kill someone, the majority is kept 'in check' through fear and threat of death. But in even a half-educated society, people are really kind of starting to get pissed off.</div>
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I find it amusing and strange, seeing these pictures flash across the internet - the satirical mask of a would-be conspirator, the image of a movie about revolution and change. And yet, the reality of the matter is, that if the movement is truly as large and wide-ranging as it appears to be through the murkier parts of the internet, the prospects are frightening.<br />
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I really believe that we are on the threshold of a radical and profound change. I know that I am an idealist - I get that a lot, but I believe the way we think about things is changing, or it should, and too many people realize that we are careening dangerously near the cliff of self-inflicted extinction. It's rather much closer than most people believe, than the media is allowed to report, or the governments want us to know. It is only through knowledge, environmental awareness, and compassion for our fellow man will we be able to survive. Because that is truly what it is becoming - not a race (he who has the most when he dies wins), but a fight for survival of the human race. It may not be my children who deal with it, nor theirs, but in the next few generations, our environmental impact with reach a critical mass which in which the 1% will not be able to hide. Even now, with the genetically altered corn and the fact even the most jaded media (like TIME and PEOPLE) report that beloved stars/leaders/idols of our time die of cancer (about 80%), people are starting to get a clue-by-four to the head. The evidence? Look around. People are swimming in trash. Bees are disappearing. Trees are being ripped out and replaced by concrete.</div>
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Something's got to give. And soon. But knowing this, knowing that something is coming...well, hope for the best, prepare for the worst.<br />
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I wonder how many people will answer the call by Anonymous. I wonder who will march on <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jAaCZWQndqA">Nov. 5th</a>?</div>
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HrXyLrTRXso">The Message from Anonymous</a> makes sense.</div>
Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-53235943681141944542012-10-09T08:49:00.002-05:002012-10-09T08:49:58.328-05:00September is over.<div style="text-align: justify;">
September is over, which brings forth cooler tidings and seasonal changes. It's weird how I feel like it's been forever since I've been cold (the mornings here in Houston have been cool), but how it feels my sister and stepbrother disappeared not too long ago.</div>
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I thought that this month would be easier, being that my sister's birthday was last month, but it's not. Not really. I'll be 35 this month, and after April, I will have exceeded my sister's lifespan. It's kind of a depressing thought, so frankly, I'm not really looking forward to my birthday. I find it just easier to take it a day at time.</div>
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I have, however, decided in all these things, over the past few months, that I wanted to embrace my spirituality more fully. A part of that came along in the decision to open <a href="http://www.facebook.com/blessingsinbetween">the shop</a>. The decision stills scares the hell out of me, but it has always been something I've wanted to do. And frankly, life's to short to wait around dreaming of things instead of doing them.</div>
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I find myself among old friends again. Moving forward through life is fine, but if you are moving just to move, you much resemble the card the Fool, with common sense nipping at your heels. It's great to have new experiences and make new friends, but we are creatures of limited space and time, and we should not let our past be forgotten. I think that some people would say that circling back is some sort of pattern that needs to be broken. I don't see it that way. If we weren't meant to have cycles, there would be none. And just because I have certain cycles, doesn't mean that others don't have different types of cycles. The idea though is to spiral upwards, not just chase your tail. As for my old friends....well, time and hardships can change a person, do they not? But the hope is that whatever was fundamental about them that brought you closer to them doesn't change. That is, anyway, the hope.</div>
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The death season is upon us, and with death comes new beginnings. I hope that they are the best to come.</div>
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Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-15513284566039719112012-10-09T08:49:00.001-05:002012-10-09T08:50:43.068-05:00nothing of importance<div style="text-align: justify;">
I know that my words here don't really do much for many. It's okay. It's an outlet for me to write, and it's a place for me to collect my thoughts. Time and time again, I say <i>these words are of the moment. Pay them no mind.</i> Because a writer, any good writer, just writes simply for the sake of writing. Sometimes very important things get put to paper (or electronic media), and other times, it is the act in and of itself that is the pleasure. Recently, I've become aware of some ugly habits through others, and I have to say, sometimes I find them rather annoying.</div>
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There are a lot of things that I watch go on around me that I hope to never be caught at. For instance, lying about my age. I think it's flattering when someone thinks I am younger than I really am, and I find it rather stupid to be deceptive of your age. It's a simple matter, and one that really does not wholly matter after you turn 21 - you'll find people who are more learned at 25 than a room full of forty-somethings, and vice versa. The only thing that is not illusionary about age is the fact that our health deteriorates (it just does it at different rates). Besides...if you will lie about the little things, well, it remains that you will be more willing to lie about the bigger things too, doesn't it? But....once a liar, always a liar.</div>
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Another annoying thing is when people 'comment' on an article for no other purpose than to put their name up on someone's writing. As if the writing is validated by them giving one or two sentences about whether or not they agree with the article/work/piece/writing. "I totally agree wholeheartedly with what you're saying." But....where is the substance? Where is...perhaps anything that might contribute to the work? Or go against it? "I disagree. I think it's stupid." And? Or...my favorite... TOTAL SPECULATION on the article itself. Just.. "Oh, it might have happened this way....or that way...but who knows?" Seriously? No matter how educated a person might be (believe me, I've even seen some of this coming from someone with more than one degree), it never ceases to amaze me how stupid a response can be.<br />
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I think those two will do for today. So please... think before you just spew some random bullshit out. If you're not adding anything intelligent to the conversation, regardless if it is pro- or anti-<i> the point</i>, please say something intelligent or STFU.<br />
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Thank you.</div>
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Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-22874916199986840472012-09-25T18:28:00.000-05:002012-09-25T18:40:03.535-05:00going to local open circles, a word on etiquette<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm sure that there's been hundreds of articles written on this, but I wanted to just point some stuff out because frankly, as the pagan community grows, we need to be more mindful of one another - some things you can't stress enough. I love how the pagan community can come together, but there's a lot of things that just really get on my nerves.</div>
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The idea is that there is a certain etiquette you need to follow when you're attending public rituals. Public rituals are generally hosted by groups who want to help build a stronger sense of community. But these groups have their own beliefs, their own systems, and their own way of doing things. You can, however, be a wonderful guest that hopefully gets invited back again and again. Here are some simple things you can do.</div>
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Firstly, <i style="font-weight: bold;">make sure your information is complete. </i>If you are going to a public ritual, whether it is hosted in a public place or private home, make sure you have the correct date, the correct time, a list of what you could and should bring (will there be a potluck fellowship afterwards? Bring food?), how many people you're allowed to bring (they might want to know if your entire druid grove of 30 is planning to come out), parking (carpooling is best), indoor or outdoor, and get accurate directions (sometimes, different GPS systems or different online map systems will put you waaaayyy off the mark). Also, if you can, try to RSVP - this helps the group get an idea of how many people will attend. And... <i>always ask if it's child-friendly</i>. There is no reason to be pissed off and act a fool if you're bringing your kid to a Beltane ritual and they politely ask you to take your child home - because it IS a fertility ritual, and YOU forgot to ask. </div>
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You have to remember, again, you're going into someone else's sacred space, into their tradition and beliefs - you're trying to be open-minded, but you have to be respectful of their beliefs and practices. </div>
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<b><i>Meet the criteria of the gathering - be prepared</i></b>. If you are told it's outside, bug spray might be a good idea. If it's a night ritual, bring a flashlight. If there's a meet-and-greet-potluck, bring something for a good amount of people (please...don't crap out and bring a damn bag of chips....if you're hard on cash, it's about 3 for cake mix and icing...there's stuff you can do on a budget. Some people go all-out, which is cool, but you don't have to be that person...you just have to put a bit of effort into it if you have some advanced warning). There are some things you should always try to bring - extra seating, a light or heavy jacket (depending on locale and weather), possibly a first aid kit, and maybe blankets (for warmth or for sitting on the ground). </div>
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If you're wanting to go above and beyond to help the group you're visiting, you can bring things that are necessary to facilitate a large group, such as paper towels, ice, disposable items (cups, plates, eating utensils), garbage bags, and<i> I kid you not</i>, toilet paper. Would you be happy about buying the toilet paper for 30 people who are descending on your house? All these items, most people don't think of, but let's face it, we are supposed to be a very tolerate, accepting group (of neo-pagans) and kindness towards others is something we should always be mindful of. Trust me, having been part of a group that did large rituals, those things are very much appreciated.</div>
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<b><i>Respect the differences</i></b>. Perhaps the ritual wasn't what you expected. In fact, perhaps your Egyptian leanings didn't fly well with the Celtic ritual. Get over it. Maybe the swag one lady was wearing looked more like a Halloween costume than High Priestess ritual robing. Get over it. They called the quarters differently, didn't use the proper elemental beings, and mispronounced the name of the God and Goddess as you know it. <b>Get over it. </b> Seriously. You're a guest, and you should be appreciative someone had the courage to share their magics, bare their soul to the public in an effort to promote community unity. If you can do better, put your money where your mouth is. There's nothing more annoying than finishing a ritual and hearing someone talk shit about a 'flat ritual', or someone wasn't witchy/mysterious/serious enough, or that someone was dressed ridiculously or whatever. Who the hell are you to judge? <i>And if you can do it better, do it.</i> But you don't have to show your ass by talking crap about your host and the people that just wanted to do something in the community. If you don't like it, don't go. If you're not into what they're into, fine, but you don't have to put someone down over their differences.</div>
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And finally, <i style="font-weight: bold;">keep your bullshit to yourself</i>. Don't bring your drama to someone else's turf. If you've got a bone to pick with someone who's part of another group, or you've got some internal conflict with another person in the organization, keep your mouth shut. It's neither the time nor the place. The gathering isn't about you, it isn't about them, get the hell over yourself - most people won't know, won't care, and just look at you as a distraction. And frankly, if you really have that kind of a problem with someone who's at a public gathering - I promise you, the circle/nemeton/gathering that you're going to doesn't want the ugliness there. No witch wars, no rivalries - stop the stupidity. If you really can't stand someone, leave. If you don't want to leave, don't stand in circle with them. There's no reason you can't enjoy a celebration, even if you don't particularly like someone there. Because, again, <i>it's not about you. It's not about them.</i> It's about the community. Work for the greater good, will you?</div>
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If you can keep those four things in mind, you'll do good. Have fun!<br />
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Yup, I'm only human - even I can forget something. Even after all of this ranting, a great friend pointed out something that is one of the most important forms of etiquette that I should be punished for....<br />
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Don't forget to say thank you. </i>Putting together a large gathering is a tremendous amount of work, money and planning. (And yes, I'm borderline spamming people, thanking them for letting us be there!...so I am KICKING myself for not adding this here the first time on my soap box....) If they've got a 'donation' jar chillin', even if you don't have a ton of money to help, pitch a dollar in. You can get a roll of toilet paper. Or a roll of paper towels. Or garbage bags. You can get a lot of disposables from a dollar store. <br />
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It's nice when you do something so cool that people appreciate you enough to simply say, "Thank you."<br />
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(Thank you, Cathy S. for pointing that out to me. :) )</div>
Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-51859151718659247932012-09-23T20:37:00.002-05:002012-09-23T20:37:52.416-05:00Blackberry Circle - Mabon in Review<div style="text-align: justify;">
(If you're not really pagan or Wiccan, you might want to skip this post....this entry deals with visiting an open pagan ritual and A)you might not be into that kind of thing or B)you just might not 'get it'....paganism and Wicca are experiential and if you don't do it, sometimes explaining it is.....many conversations over many beers/coffee....)</div>
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So, as the Fates would have it, with the shop opening and the need for networking, some friends and I happened upon <a href="http://www.blackberrycircle.org/">Blackberry Circle</a>. </div>
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When you go blindly into a community gathering, you really never know what you're getting into. I'm always up for meeting new people on the bright side, but on the<i> other </i>side, the <i>crazy</i> side, you have to worry about things like drama, showcase gurus, and a plethora of other <i>weirdness</i>. </div>
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I'm happy to say, this outing was not the case.</div>
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Now, the instructions were pretty good, but I am partial to my GPS. Through the combination, we drove out to Conroe, which is a bit north from Houston. The place was easy to find, frankly, when you have that kind of gathering at someone's personal home, really, all you have to do is look for the cars. And there were quite a few cars.</div>
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The gathering was about 40ish people - this apparently wasn't a largely advertised circle (I found it through the C.O.G. website, because I was interested in it and it showed that this particular group was trying to get ...a charter, I think?). But the friends I had bought were skittish, and we entered in a closely knit group. </div>
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I think that started to dissolve rather quickly. The gracious host coven and their more familiar regulars paid attention to new faces - greeting, meeting, introducing. </div>
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(Now....I will not interject etiquette points on visiting circles...that's for another post.)</div>
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The circle in and of itself was not lead solely by a high priest or priestess. Everyone in the host coven had their part, and kindly, we were greeted to come into the circle, which was physically marked by fencing and, you guessed it, blackberry bushes. Both open, but closed, it was quite a large circle, roomy, and easily accommodating the large group of people. </div>
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The ritual itself was stylized Wiccan - instead of an open nemeton, it was the closed sphere that those that practice Wicca are used to. </div>
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On a personal note, I have a lot of respect for the kindly woman who both opened and closed the circle - one person to cover that many people and let it be felt, that was really cool. I can't help but crack a smile at the thought. I'm not so gifted that I can see auras or do past life regression - I believe firmly I have a sensitivity (stronger than some, not as strong as others). I remember being a kid and playing a silly game where you placed your hand on someone's head and hit it with your fist, 'cracking an egg'. Then you would lightly wiggle your fingers and brush down their hair, and they could feel the sensation of 'egg trickling down their head'. The feeling that sneaks up on you when you hear really great music and it gives you goosebumps? That kind of feeling - knowing someone really was 'covering' 40-something people with the power of the people and their will. Totally cool.</div>
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If you're into magic and do it frequently, you know about 'raising the power'. Some people use chants, some people use a strict format, tapping into the power of the past usage of a rune or rhyme. The approach of this group was amusing for me - instead, they tapped the power of laughter and happiness.</div>
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The words 'mirth and reverence' come to mind. The gentleman leading the ritual stylized his narration, his pageantry if you will, in the flavor of a southern baptist preacher. And he told the story of the Lord of Light and the Lord of Dark, and the Ladies of Light and Dark. The retelling is an old one, some referring them to the Oak and Holly king, (funny enough, with the joyous, playful catcalls coming from the circle. "Amen!" "Holly-lujah!" And other cracks abound). But even in the play, the ancient story flooded the mind and filled the senses as the moon, both half light and half dark, hung over the proceedings. <br /><br />Back to the mirth....as cakes and ales consisted of Moon Pies (both chocolate and, yup, vanilla) and RC Cola (with profuse apologies to those who were about to experience diabetic shock). The ritual came to a close, and the entire time, it was upbeat, playful, and swirling. Like a bunch of kids hopping into a summer pool party.</div>
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Feasting and fellowship followed, light by LED and glowy things. The food was great (I don't know who made the roast beast, but the flavor was excellent), fruits, flesh, fresh breads - all sorts of wonderful things. I met some nice people, and hopefully, it opens doors for building friendships and being a part of the greater Houston pagan community. </div>
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Unfortunately, we had driven a ways, so we had to cut out early. We giggled all the way to the car as choruses of well-wishes, safe-journeys, and goodbyes came clearly through the darkness.<br /><br />Thanks for the great times! Looking forward to Samhain!</div>
<br />Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4595492831645409150.post-41479651274220187492012-09-20T23:23:00.004-05:002012-09-20T23:23:49.520-05:00hammering on the forgeAn old dream, once dusty and darkened with age, was put upon the forge and fired again. It light up, glowing and warm, and slowly, it is being hammered into shape.<br />
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Since I was very young, I wanted to create a metaphysical book store.<br />
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This dream started in a small shop called Gateways in Seabrook, Texas. The shop was small when it started, opening in a small, unused church behind a Whataburger off of highway 146. <br />
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It was a beautiful little store. It was filled with delightful smells, with crystals that were supposed to have power. Millions of pieces of rainbow danced across surfaces of counters and floors, lit by big, bright windows and flung far and wide by leaded, cut crystals hanging from the ceiling. Angels adorned shelves, along with books and boxes. Meditation music played softly as jewelry glittered silently inside of glass cases. This brilliant place was serene, and the the people behind the counters were kind and soft-spoken.<br />
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When I was younger, not quite a teen, this was a treat, to be able to go to this place. This little bookstore was a place my stepmother used to take me, looking for heartfelt gifts. The owner offered a Course in Miracles and other such new-age things. This shop moved twice in its long career (as far as these stores go) and became a very strong presence in a spiritual community of alternative beliefs. The owner passed away, then the shop was passed onto her daughter. With her wife, she ran this shop that catered to the pagan community, eventually offering classes on herbs, on basic Wicca, past lives, and other various workshops.</div>
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Ever since I was 11, I dreamed of being able to do the same thing. Being surrounded by wondrous, magical things and catering to the pagan community.</div>
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A few weeks ago, this dream started becoming a reality.</div>
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My husband and I have talked a lot about the feasibility of opening a store. It takes a lot of capital, and frankly, unless you're gifted with it through great credit or maybe someone passing (gods forbid), then it's hard to come up with that kind of money. So, as a modest start, we've started a small booth inside a flea market in Houston.</div>
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The name of our booth, our 'store' is In Between. We chose the name, because of it's multiple meanings - we are always in between one part of our lives and the next, and in ritual, we are in all worlds and between all worlds. We are creatures in constant motion, between one lesson and the next. We are neither here, nor there.</div>
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The idea has more evolved to being a spiritual gift and book store. Path is irrelevant. We are all on our own path, doing our own thing, hoping to be doing the right thing, and sometimes we have an adventure buddy or two with us. Remember what I said about my stepmother wanting to give me a Christian blessing? Doesn't matter. A blessing in any faith is still a blessing. So that has become our motto, if you will.</div>
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<i>Blessings on your journey.</i></div>
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So...with hope, with fear, with anxiety and exhilaration, we bring to you <a href="http://www.facebook.com/blessingsinbetween">In Between</a>. Follow along on Facebook if you'd like. We are working to build a dream and we would love to share with your the wonderful things we find. Some might seem scary, but our items will transverse faiths. From Kali to Buddha, from sugar skulls to spirit houses, from Our Lady of Guadalupe to our Anubis plushie - we are trying to create a more spiritual, more rounded place. The greatest achievement we can make is helping someone find some solace in their spiritual journey.</div>
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Pax.</div>
Pooka Darlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03674502155464941835noreply@blogger.com0