the night of ten swords

the other night i had a dream... it was very fuzzy, and aspects of it were so completely random even my dream mind had trouble following. there was a great battle building on another world, and i actually knew i had a portal to that world outside my door, open, waiting for me to step through. i had on my armor, my spear in my hand and my healing herbs and magical tools in a pouch at my belt. but no matter how i struggled to get there, other things from my life kept getting in my way.

at one point, an old enemy of mine showed up to pick yet another fight. i was so sick of her, and in such frantic haste to join this battle that i didn't even take her bait. i simply humiliated her into silence. hurrying on, a girl i know from work actually grabbed me by the arm and stopped me, asking me to help her figure out this conundrum she'd put herself in. my house needed repair, the phone kept ringing...

i figured out the meaning, although it took a few days. much as my warrior self knew i belonged out there and that i would make a world of difference, home needed me more immediately. i've been working with the theravada buddhist concept of the Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path lately. mainly, this whole idea of being with someone, of choosing to remain vulnerable and trust even when my instinct and experience are screaming at me to protect myself as viciously as i possibly can, is creating so much dissonance inside i can't hear the Divine Wow anymore.

cutting between what i want, what i need, and what i'm actually receiving is a vast canyon as wide as grief and as deep as despair. i've been approaching this by trying to build a bridge so i may cross over to what i want and need. when that didn't work, i tried flying over the canyon. i even tried the whole rocket-jetpack-and-roller-skates contraption that Wile E. Coyote did in that one episode.

i finally had to admit giving up what i wanted and needed, giving up the frustration and hurt, was what i needed to do. but instead of simply dying inside, like i could feel happening, i decided to gather up my fraying courage and hike down into the canyon with nothing but a canteen and a pair of comfortable shoes. perhaps i would find there the reason my needs weren't being met, my voice wasn't being heard, and my heart wasn't being cherished.

the past few months there have been a lot of similarities between my situations with *m* and greggo. both men were less than stellar when it came to hearing me, or even caring about my needs. they'd made up their minds about me, and no amount of explaining and pleading would get them to understand. i just didn't know how to get them to understand, but i knew that the moment they did, this whole problem would go away.

compassion, however, demanded i stop trying for a while and do nothing but pay respect and strive to understand them. the frustration was becoming unbearable, however. this is where the eightfold path came into play, meditating on slowly letting go of my wants until i had none where those men were concerned. it wasn't until that moment i was able to see exactly where my pain was, and why it hurt. and it wasn't until then that i was actually able to accurately articulate what it was i needed.

it was remarkable, however, once i understood these things, how strong was my desire to simply offer them up to the two men as a gift, and simply bow and say, "as you wish." for the last week, i'd been telling *m* "as you wish," but i was channeling the broken spirit of big *c*'s wife, not the compassionate love and tricky Funk of the Multiversal Jiggy Snake.

i'm not entirely sure, but i think greggo and i might actually have negotiated peace. right now, however, with the smoke still stinging my eyes and my heart still in bruised pieces, i don't know if it's a peace treaty, or simply two generals so devastated by such spiritual brutality we're pleading for it to just stop and who the fuck cares who wins. like i told *m* in the car yesterday, i just feel tired...and defeated.

tackling the problem with *m* was a little more difficult. i had to tell him i had something i wanted to share with him, but i was afraid to because of how poorly he'd received my words before. i asked for him to promise he would show empathy, and to squash any defensive urges that might come up before i would say any more. just getting to that point was a minor struggle in itself and filled with every single communication problem we've had for the past few months. i almost broke down right there and gave up.

at one point, i even lamented that using statements like "i feel," and "to me, it seems like," did nothing for us because he jumped to the defensive all the same. he grew frustrated and exasperated whenever i bowed and said, "as you wish." he didn't like when i was unhappy, but he didn't like me to hide it, either. i had actually begun to feel it die inside, hope and faith, like it had in the House of Oppression and again with my marriage. but this time my body was reacting like it'd been poisoned. i was just too out of practice for the knowledge and sensation of spiritual suicide to be tolerable anymore.

Delena of the Funkywild would never tolerate this, i remember thinking to myself the other night in bed as i listened to *m* fall asleep oblivious to another one of my pleas for simple physical contact. i was crying myself to sleep yet again. she never would, i said to myself. she would jump out of bed, flip on the light, and demand to be heard. she would demand it and not even give him time to let his eyes adjust to the sudden light flooding the room.

and i could see it, too. i could see Delena of the Funkywild springing up and throwing the switch, towering over *m*'s befuddled and sleepy form, demanding to be heard and refusing to let any of us sleep until i had said my peace and regained my Self's balance. i could see her, and she was wonderful. but at that moment, she was not me, and i closed my eyes and pushed those tears back down again.

i fell asleep with heartburn. with heartburn.

i told him none of that, however, sitting on the couch monday morning. but i did lay it out for him. i told him i needed compassion, that i needed to be touched and loved. there are bigger things out there, i told him, and while he didn't have the ability to step back and see the larger picture and how issues and events are related and translate to a larger Theme or Concept, i could. he, however, could get down to the straight details, of facts and black and white. together, if we put our abilities together we would be phenominal. but i needed him to stop being the cop and start being my lover. i'd been respectful and given him all the space he wanted, and i can go without as much contact as i need, but i desperately needed more than he was giving. and the sense of his rejection was killing me. the fact he wouldn't hear me, the fact he would say, "well, that just isn't me," by way of a reason --or excuse-- was a poison arrow in my heart.

my eyes were filled with tears and a couple had found their way down my face --which is really crying for me-- and i let him see. i don't think he'll ever know how large a demonstration of trust that was --letting him see my crying face-- but i gave it to him nonetheless.

strangely, however, i don't feel victorious. i don't feel good about myself at all. this isn't the time for a pat on the back, or anything else like that. i'm at that moment right after slaying the hydra, in the silence following the last echoes of its massive corpse hitting the ground with a thunderous crash, the roars of all its deadly heads echoing in memory. in the silence of disbelief and desperation, when you hold your breath waiting for the hydra to rise because it's just impossible to believe it might really be dead, and your muscles burn and tremble with exhaustion and every bone-weary breath is a thousand needles scraping your lungs, when you are too spent for thought and even passion and will are drained to the knife edge of despair...

...in that worn and trembling silence when hoping is too much...

...that is where i am. the beast is slain. the insecurity, the misery, the hopelessness, the bruised and wrenching heart, the grief. it's all slain. but right now i'm simply too tired to pick up the Funk and hope.

the ten of swords has been swimming in my dreams lately, too. she might have fought bravely, tirelessly, and with the mad fire of the goddess-inspired. she might have fought so gloriously her defeated foes even honored her with their swords as tribute. but right now, though the battle is over and the dawn shortly follows, for now there is only rest.



so now my computer's finally up and running and connected to the internet. i can finally start getting my online life back on track. i've missed writing more than i can really say. it's driven me fairly mad.

everyone keeps asking how the move was, how life is now with *m*. my voice keeps catching in my throat and i scramble wildly around inside my brain for something that at least sounds positive that's not an outright lie. mainly i keep it to the practical actions.

"oh, y'know, we're just trying to get everything out of boxes right now."
"just trying to settle in..."
"the kittens are loving all these new things to explore..."

i mean, there's really no clean way to say, "well, you know that whole buddhist philosophy about expectations and desire and misery, and having no desires frees us from misery? yeah, well, i'm trying to follow that." besides, it's not really what they want to hear, anyway. they want: "yeah, life is great! woo!"

if i followed goddesses like brigid, demeter, kwan yin, or aphrodite, i'd be asking them for guidance and trying my damndest to follow in their footsteps. but no, my goddesses are oya, morrigan, kali the destroyer, and lilith. i'm about death at the core, swallowing down and breaking up into basic elements, pruning with brutal and merciless love...and equality. painful, honest, challenging equality.

doesn't sound like a compassionate igoddess of the hearth, does it?

instead i find myself yet again yielding to another's needs, bowing low and saying, "as you wish" while my own needs fall to the wayside. compassion doesn't demand to be put first. lilith has been my guiding force for two years, but how to reconcile the lover and hearthmistress with the dark mother?

i wonder that the goddesses i honor really don't have consorts...unless they're in their "other" aspects. but i don't know how to bridge the gap.


rainbow dreams

this week's rainbow dreams is brought to you by the Inner Child Tarot, bells, and the letter Q.

i ran.

fleet-footed as the soulful-eyed doe who had greeted me upon my rebirth from the earth, from Earth, i ran through the dark forest along paths no human foot had trod for hundreds of years. she leapt and gamboled beside me, her dappled hide seeming to shift in the muted sunlight and shadows from the canopy above, as i ran faster than thought, silent as shadow, through the thick undergrowth.

my mud-heavy hair bumped against my back with each stride. my feet were cut on sharp stones and thorns. low-hanging branches left rose welts on my flanks as i crashed through them in my haste. my nipples hardened in the cold, damp morning air. the mud on my body dried in the breeze of my passing.

and every sensation of the stunning standard and numinous normal was a note in the spectacular song of the Funky Jive. my breath rasping in my throat was rapturous.

together, the doe and i broke through the dark wild wood into a sunlit clearing, in the middle of which grew a single maple tree. a small creek burbled and danced along the inner edge of the clearing and formed a pool on the other side of the maple. long sweetgrass and heather grew thick in the clearing, the heather shining with every delicate color nature could imagine. the thick perfume of heather mixed with the fresh, warm scent of the grass and water to tantalize my soul.

the doe bounded into the clearing, stopped to bend her head beside the pool for a drink of water, then with a leap was gone. she vanished back into the wood once more. i ran to follow her, but a few strides into the clearing i felt the woods fall away. suddenly, i found myself in a wide and fertile valley, white-capped mountains cradling me as if i stood in the palm of a verdant hand. the cloudless sky was as high as birdsong and as wide as joy.

but what took my breath was when i realized i was still within a circle. elm and oak, pine and apple trees stood at the four cardinal points. they were ancient sentinels, i knew, and gentle guides. and standing at four of the five mystical points were four other sacred Trees, with the mighty oak standing as head of both, to create a powerful Circle of nine sacred trees. with maple at its core.

the maple was my tree. the tree that bleeds, and in its blood gives nourishment to others. the tree that Bleeds But Does Not Die.

"Daughter of Earth," said the Sky, "Bathe thyself. Be cleansed of what was."

i knew i couldn't bathe in the pool, but downstream a small ways was a shallow dip, waist-high with a sunning rock the perfect length for me to stretch out upon. testing the waters, i found the creek so warm and aerated it felt like laughter soughing across my skin. i scrubbed the mud from my hair with sand, then crushed handfuls of heather and rubbed them into my hair and skin. as i sunned myself upon the rock, i took handfuls of spiraled pond grass and ran it through my hair so it would dry straight and untangled. when it was dry, i wove my hair into two long braids over each ear, then wound them around my head as i'd seen my great, great grandmother's portrait. she'd been a beloved curandera in her village when she was alive, healing the sick of spirit as well as fostering health in the body.

i had not seen it while bathing, but as i came out of the water i found my wounds had been completely healed. there was a pale scar, like a birthmark, where the Pomegranate Priestess had lain my heart open, in the shape of a star burst. there was a serpentine scar around my upper arm, pale and thin. but i was whole, and hale, and my time within the Earth had given me perspective into what my problems truly were:

Not That Big a Deal.

"Child of Water," said the Earth, "Immerse thyself and drink. Be freed of what is."

the small pool beckoned. only a moment did regret flicker inside me as i thought about my freshly dry hair getting wet all over again. i suppose even meditation and perspective can only go so far for vanity. but my steps were sure as i lowered myself into the pool. i cupped my hands together and lifted the water to my lips. it tasted sweet, and rich with minerals. it went to my head like a sip of brandy.

"it's just..." i heard myself sigh. "the idea of peace with him, like a holy grail, only i watch it tear me apart and i can't stop crusading for it."

my path had become, without my knowing, the path of compassion, of love and mercy and the never-ending struggle for understanding. and yet my own fear of being laid waste again was too powerful to allow me to surrender fully to compassion. i still saw it as giving permission to another to cause me pain. and the harder i struggled, the more it ripped me apart. there could be true compassion within me, and it didn't have to cost my Self. compassion, forgiveness, and mercy could be given, but it did not require me to treat the other person as a lifelong and trusted bosom companion. to truly pardon required only forgiveness of an offense, and anything more which led to my demise, again and again, was my own naive folly.

it was time to leave hopeful childhood dreams and idealism behind. there would always be room for beauty in the world of magic, but there could be no trust given freely where it was not first earned.

i cried for myself, then. deep inside myself, i had always prayed that someday i would be forgiven by people i loved and could then be welcomed back with open arms and laughter to resume my place among them as if nothing had happened, once my penance was repaid. and in my hope to receive that, i had given that very thing to many others, foolishly, and with disastrous results. with enough compassion, forgiveness could be given. but the time had come to accept that my place among them was lost a long time ago, that others' places in my life were gone, and sometimes there is no such thing as happily ever after together.

no matter how much the child within might want it so.

"Sister to the Sky," said the Water, "wash thy tears and dry thy face. Take, and hold it in trust for what will be."

i washed my face and stepped from the pool. immediately i was dry. sitting upstream at the edge of the creek was a crystal vial with a carved stopper. i filled it with water and clutched it to my heart.


death of an apocalypse

i swallow you down and break you up into your most basic elements so i may then use those materials...

this prayer has been going through my head for a few days now. actually, i've lain awake for hours trying to remember even the first dozen words or so. i couldn't even remember the phrase "most basic elements" because of how clouded my mind has been lately.

there's been so much fear lately, so much confusion and frustration, heartsick agony and hopelessness. i've been struggling to find how to break up fear into even more basic elements, but fear is a basic emotion and cannot be disassembled any further. because oh, i've tried.

my lovely and funkalicious beauty and truth fans, i might've been ready for a relationship, but i don't know that i was truly ready to be vulnerable. of all i've seen of successful pairings of people, none of them have sat down and told me that love is something that goes beyond risk, that goes beyond that life-or-death decision to stand there with your arms down and just let the shrapnel hit you full in the torso. that choice to stand there and smile and let him stab you in the gut one more time, over and over.

and over.

don't forget to smile. and say 'thank you.'

have you ever been so afraid you've actually been paralyzed? i mean, literary talent that i am, i know i've talked about being paralyzed by fear, but in all honesty i've never actually been truly paralyzed. i've heard the blood rushing in my ears before, and there are countless times i've had the fight-or-flight response kick in. i've also been so mortally frightened that i was immediately kicked so far beyond fear that i found myself in a calm sort of focus, knowing that whatever happened in the next thirty seconds could not be prevented and i'd already accepted the fact of my own mortality.

but i've never been paralyzed by fear. at least, that is, until the other night. i couldn't move. and although it was because i was afraid of *m*, it wasn't *m* i think i was truly fearing. it was vulnerability. i feared being the supplicant, because i'm so proud. i feared the feeling of begging, because i'm too proud. i feared yielding and capitulating one more time, because i'm too paranoid and defensive to even remotely resemble a doormat.

i haven't mastered my inner calm, my core of confidence that cannot be shattered. i don't have the authority in my Self to know --truly know-- that compassion isn't flawed by pride. it isn't about who's right or wrong, who was wronged first or hurts deepest. it's about who's loving, compassionate, and merciful enough to start healing, about who is willing enough and humble enough to honor the Funk within another. because in honoring the Divine Wow within another, you honor the Supreme Funk within yourself. it's not about making your point, about driving it home until its made...until you win. it's about making peace.

and that's oh so hard to do when you're afraid and hurting, and you know that to take down your defenses is to be shredded to pieces all over again. i guess love is walking through the firing line.



...5 hours 9 minutes, and counting.

my flight leaves at 16:05 today, and as i sat down to write this entry, it's 10:56. i woke up yesterday and realized it was my last full day of no *m*. the impish, dry-humored side of me pulled the corner of my mouth up in my old wry half-smile as it occurred to me i might want to call in sick to work and go downtown, then call up everyone i knew and throw a last-minute hen party.

i didn't, though. i went to work, and actually yesterday was a very good day. it was quiet, for the most part. it's been slow at work, and i only groomed two dogs. the tips from those dogs, however, bought me dinner. which, i must say, i was glad for since money's been so tight with the payroll disaster and i've been going hungry on those nights i haven't been over at *ds* and *ks*'s apartment.

boho mom, you'd be so proud of me. these last two weeks have been an immersion in the bohemian lifestyle, to include sitting on the floor (no furniture) while crocheting afghans and potholders, going hungry, drinking lots of looseleaf chai, and shaving curls of handmade goatmilk lavender soap to do my laundry, lol.

i've loved it, though. the demon children are affectionate, cuddly, purry, and a hilarious source of entertainment. my apartment's been comfortingly quiet, and ever since i put that nightlight in my room, sleeping's been enjoyable, too. although i haven't enjoyed the solitary state, however temporary i know it's been. the only time in my life i've lived somewhat alone, it was when i was married to big *c* and it was just me and li'l *c* at home together while big *c* worked double shifts to get away from me. and an infant, and then a toddler, is anything but quiet. and we kept each other company. but that's the closest to living alone that i've ever come.

and i've decided i enjoy roomates. perhaps i've always been communal, although that wouldn't be surprising. i grew up in a large mexican family, which is synonymous for "noisy and obnoxious." i loved it when it was the six of us (*ks*, *ds*, *kas*, *mj*, and *cc*) with four or five cats and a dog. it was cramped, and we got on each other's nerves, but i always felt safe and loved. sure, there's a freedom when living alone that you really don't have when you're living with anyone else, but i know i can always just get up and go somewhere whenever i want. i've made it abundantly clear to *m* that i'm anything but tether-downable.

*mj* called me a free spirit once, and *ds* and *ks* call me their stray kitty. *mj* laughs at my gypsy feet, and everyone else wonders why i refuse to settle down. i suppose after living in a cage for two dozen years, any animal would be wary of the thing that even remotely resembles captivity. we'll see if *m* has what it takes to coax a stray kitty indoors: a cozy fire; a warm, soft, and comfortable place to curl up; a gentle hand willing to give affection; and maybe a collar with a bell, but only so long as time is given to me to decide if i want to wear it, and so long as the collar is pink.

so we'll drive up tomorrow, and i got thursday off from work so i could help *m* unload the moving truck. then, sunday is dinner at the parents' and a sort of "welcome home, *m*" celebrating his first sunday dinner as a member of the household. next sunday, the girls at the salon had all wanted to go to one of the haunted houses we have around here, and they chose the 28th because they knew *m* could come, too. they're all excited to have him up here, someone they can interact with and get to know, instead of a disembodied name that just comes out of my mouth whenever i decide to talk about him.

everyone's excited he's finally coming up here. i... well, i've decided to withhold excitement until i have a better idea how this will all turn out. i really want to be happy with this whole thing, so i've been doing my best not to set myself up for too much disappointment. so i suppose as long as i just don't press, and i let things be, it might work.

as my bio-mom used to say all the time, and it used to irritate me now but as i've gotten older i find myself using it a lot, "we'll see."



CAPRICORN (Dec 22-Jan 19): The coming week won't be a favorable time to seek revenge against the thunder for making such loud noises. Nor would it be a good idea for you to curse the sea for being so restless or to angrily punch the sky for being so high or to spread nasty gossip about the wind for refusing to heed your commands. On the other hand, cosmic fortune will bless you if you yourself are like an elemental force that unapologetically obeys the laws of your own nature.

funny he should say that just now, this mr. brezsny man. how did he know i'd be lying curled in the fetal today in *ds* and *ks*'s apartment, sniffling and slowly leaking hopeless and despairing tears while sick in my stomach that *m* and i were over?

and all because we still haven't learned to communicate.

i wasn't appreciating his very male effort, and he wasn't learning how to talk to me. my vast and myriad approaches were confusing and frustrating him and he would end up yelling at me, and in my recognizing a scary similarity between his behavior and my marriage to big *c*, i was withdrawing and letting my anger manifest as passive-aggressive cattiness.

i hate that i haven't completely broken the habit altogether, but at least i know that passive-aggression with me is the absolute last resort. i only get this horridly bitchy when i feel i haven't been heard, and when i feel part of the reason i haven't been heard is because i'm being reduced to insignificance.

and then i overcompensate to protect that little girl inside who used to get beaten while others turned a blind eye to her pain.

i am open and honest. i declare what i want. i don't stand around waiting for someone to hand it to me. when there is a problem, i tackle it. when there is a problem, i point it out and am relentless in trying to fix it. and yes, while i am more than happy to admit my contribution to the problem and admit my responsibility, i'm also more than glad to point out others' contribution, as well. people don't like when you say, "my bad. oh, wait, your bad, too."

but i refuse to be the only one saying, "my bad," all the time. people start getting used to it, and then somehow you wake up and realize everyone's piling it all on you. fuck no. not again.

and while i was curled up in the fetal, confused and crying and wondering if i'm really just not worth loving, it crossed my mind that maybe i just should change in order to please a man. after all, from my bio-dad to the father of my child, and every man before or since, all of them ended up calling me very horrible things and reducing me to insignificance (long before i ever acted out against them, reactionary creature that i am). the only men who are the exceptions are my family: *aj*, and *mj*, and *ks*, and my dad.

so perhaps i just wasn't worth it the way i am. but i'm honest, and open, and true to myself, and i know what i deserve and am unafraid to say, "i don't deserve to be treated as less than i am, and you are wrong to do so." i'm supposed to be a revolutionary freedom fighter, dammit.

of course, the instant the thought crossed my mind, i rejected the thought. there's no way Delena of the Funkywild could ever allow herself to change just to make someone else love her and approve of her. but still. it crossed my mind.

and i thought i'd come so far.

after a sleepless night, a tear-filled day, and a lot of staring at the television while my ass fell asleep from sitting on the floor, sick in my soul with terror that i was going to lose the man i love, i was kind of messy. i was even already composing a blog entry, where i was going to say, "yeah, come on. everyone who hates me and glorifies in any moment where my nose is in the dirt, laugh it up. delena's down, go ahead and have your kicks, fuckers." that, of course, was going to be addressed to certain people i know read this blog, and who don't have my best interests at heart.

*m* finally called (for the first time in many weeks actually following through with his promise to spend time with me and talk to me), and i am reassured that i didn't lose him, and he's still moving up here to be with me. of course, he called like nothing happened and didn't even address our issues. i didn't want to tear open the fresh scab, though. while i won't change for him, i'm still pathetic enough that i didn't dare rock the boat.

i'm afraid to talk to him about anything serious. that can't be good. i don't want to be yelled at again. but i just want to fix this communication problem we seem to have. but all i can do is remember the way his frustration so quickly turns to anger, which so quickly turns into yelling at me. if i didn't know that his frustration is at himself and he feels like a failure for hurting and disappointing me when all he wants is to make me happy, i'd have serious reservations about him. but i just have misgivings about our problem with communication. i don't know how to fix it.

all i can do is hold on to my prayer:

"die, apocalypse, die! i swallow you down and break you up into your most basic elements so i may then use those materials to continue to construct myself into the funkiest groovemate worthy of both myself and my sweet baboo, and thereby kill the apocalypse within me by transforming my shadow self into constructive expressions of the Funkalicious Jive! i shall endeavor to find equality, equilibrium, and interdependence with my sweet groovemate in order to allow him to manipulate me as much as i manipulate him, so that we both may work our magic on each other and manifest all of our potential!

amen. a-woman. ommmmm... and hallelujah."


have i mentioned i love my job?

speaking of compliments, apparently this came to the managers' email box at work on the 24th last month...


Delena in grooming is wonderful! A great asset to your company. Not only did she reassure me that she could take excellent care of my dog, due to the fact that he has had hip surgery and has been recently diagnosed with a cancerous tumor, but she followed through with everything that she promised. I had stopped back by and noticed that she had someone holding him up to make sure he was not under any extra stress. She called as soon as she was done. When I arrived, Joey was with Delena, very happy and comfortable. I know it's not easy grooming an older dog with so many problems. She did an excellent job. Thank you very much, Delena, for being such a caring person. I will be recommending Delena to all my friends!

and it was from a customer who actually came into our store and spoke with my general manager in order to get the phone number so she could actually call up someone in Corporate...just to tell them about me.

in a time when i've been under constant and ever-increasing stress for the past two months, tips are non-existent, things are chaotic at work, i'm sick as a dog horking everywhere, and payroll has fucked up my paycheck for third time in a row and have severly shorted me...

...i got this. there's actually supposed to be a little to-do at work about this, with a special pin for me to wear and some other stuff, but that never happened. however, i don't care about that. just getting the email was enough. it's nice to know that sometimes people actually notice.



so yesterday, *cc* and i achieved the amazing feat of moving all my stuff to the new apartment...all by ourselves!

it was tiring, but we had it done in six hours (nonstop). then we took showers, took our mom's SUV (Small Utility Vehicle) back, and dad made dinner. oh...dad's cooking...


so yeah. my stuff is moved in, and i'm getting unpacked. i'm not gonna sweat too much of it, though, because *m*'s coming here in a couple weeks and i don't know how he's going to want to set things up. i demand my own bathroom, though.

hehe. the pink bathroom...

however, my computer is still hooked up in the apartment with *mj* and *cc*, because no buffy AND no internet make delena...something something...

"go crazy?"

"yeah, that's it! don't mind if i do!!!"

so my entries might still be a little sparse or sporadic until *mj* sets up our systems in the new place. but just wanted to let y'all know...things are good. the delena dragon is settling into her new den quite nicely...