what's that word again?

confused (adj.)

1. chaotic; jumbled
2. being unable to think with clarity or act with understanding and intelligence
3. lacking logical order or sense
4. what the male of the species is
5. the state in which delena finds herself whenever dealing with the male of the species


you know what i find most frustrating about being delena? simply this: men within a decade of my age are too immature and mentally dull to keep up with me. the upside? it lets me know i am nose and tail above the crowd, so far above the status quo that i see in color while the unwashed masses see in black and white. the downside? considering a man even as young as 35 is too old for me as far as my dad's concerned, my intelligence and maturity condemn me to a solitary existence.

this, in a word, sucks.

i read something once upon a time that compared women like me to the lucious, perfect, tasty fruit at the very top of a very tall tree. it wasn't so much that men didn't prefer that gorgeous fruit, so much as the simple fact it was so hard to reach. so they would pick the fruit closer to the ground and easier within reach. this, however, had a twofold negative result: the men were okay with their fruit, but not satisfied or content; and the fruit at the very top of the tree wondered what the fuck was wrong with them that they could be so wonderful, yet be withering on the branch.

i've been told --simply within the month of may-- that 1.) i am unattainable and "too much" to keep, 2.) someone couldn't get past just trying to get me into bed and keeping me there, and 3.) that i'm "just not" what someone else was looking for. i think the third statement was the most fair, honestly. but, dispensing with the "they're just stupid not to appreciate you" sort of opinion, what the absolute fuck is wrong here? is it me? where are the chivalrous, intelligent, mature, open-minded men with backbones born in the late 70's? i can't be so rare that i'm unique. i just can't.

this would be undermining my self-confidence if i wasn't possessed of my naïve faith in fairytale love.

who needs a list of "must haves/can't stands" when simply being close to my age, mature enough to keep up with me, intelligent enough to challenge me, and a chivalrous knight-errant at heart is a tall enough order?

brezsny-on-the-blog

CAPRICORN (Dec 22-Jan 19): I'm issuing a too-much-of-a-good-thing warning. Soaking up too much pleasure could dilute the value of your bliss. Expressing too much personal power could scare away valuable allies who are competent but not entirely confident. Pushing too hard on behalf of your creative pragmatism could subtly undermine the labor of love you've worked so hard on. Therefore, Capricorn, please accept my invitation to enjoy a period of rest and assimilation. You can return later for another round of pure intensity.


you know what's funny about this is that i was thinking of this very thing on sunday evening as i was driving to my parents' for dinner. i realized that sometimes iGoddess can sound like nothing so much as a psalm to the glory of the delena. not that there's anything wrong with singing my praises. if i don't toot my own horn, then who will?

of course, my horn sounds amazingly like a glen miller big brass band, but that's okay, too. *grin*

but anyway, i thought to myself, "y'know, delena, not everyone likes to read about how great delena's life is all the time. i mean, yes, it's wonderful you're so happy, but perhaps we should tone it down a bit? or perhaps explore other areas and things you've been thinking about?"

"you know something," i said to myself, "you're absolutely right."

i just find it amazing that, instead of merely marveling at how my life is sincerely echoing freewill astrology and miming life according to the televisionary oracle, now i just have to marvel that i'm actually channeling the ecstatic pronoiac bliss of brezsny mere days before he sends his thoughts directly into my e-mailbox.

and so, i send my r.s.v.p. to mr. brezsny's invitation to enjoy a period of rest and assimilation. in fact, i employed the art of moving meditation and accepted yet another invitation; this time it was *ks*'s invitation to begin a project i've been wanting to undertake for the past few years. my former mother-in-law gave me a coffee table and two end tables back when big *c* and i were young kids just starting out. they were beautiful pieces and i loved them. they'd been handed down to her when she was a starry-eyed young bride, and she was passing them down to me.

as i'd been through countless moves over the years, with countless roomates and countless opportunities for things to happen to my lovely furniture, needless to say they've accumulated their fair share of scuffs, stains, and other things. so i'm stripping, sanding, re-staining, and varnishing them into a renaissance of beauty and maple elegance. it will be labor of dedication and love, and fifty years from now i'll look upon them and remember this summer project, the work and energy i put into them. i'll put my feet up on the table, which will sit in the iGoddess hatchling's house, and she and i can chat over chai about the day she'll give the tables to one of her children some time down the line.

so i will rest, and regroup, and assimilate those other things i've been thinking about. and in the meantime i'll continue this round of the dating game, enjoy my work, and revel in the magic of watching these fine wooden pieces come alive beneath my loving hands...

"to serve all, but love only one"

sometimes i wonder where chivalry has gone, and i lament i shall never find it again. this is the modern age, i know, of capitalism, consumerism, women holding more of the spending power and making up the majority percentage of marketing brackets. women demand what they want, speak up in the board room, and are more likely to kick some mugger's ass with her Tai Bo kickboxing than scream for help. women are bitches and it's a compliment. women go for what they want and are queens of their lives.

and It Was Good.

me, however? while not of an older generation, i have an older spirit and cherish the old code. some things, then, remain confusing to me. the women's movement of the 70's was a wonderful breakthrough in the concept of equality and freedom for all individuals. i know we have a ways to go (e.g. same-sex marriage), but it was a fantastic start.

however, somewhere along the way, we lost sight of the original goal of the movement: freedom of choice.

in magic, the most powerful act a witch can perform is to change her mind. thought is power, i've said this before. our thoughts shape our realities. but as a girl growing up, it was driven into me that i would be independent, able to take care of myself in every capacity, and be at the mercy of no man. my education was my ticket to this freedom. i would make no choice that relinquished an iota of this freedom, this power.

i was no child of the barrio, to whom a scholarship or military position was a way out of the projects. i lived in the middle class of the early 80's, went to a private school, and had as my role-models some very talented and educated adults who taught me to think and perform my gifts and skills to the best of my ability. i was given piano and voice lessons to hone my inherited musical talents. i was blessed with a very sharp mind, and had a genius for the liberal arts and communication. "armed" with these "powerful weapons," as my bio-dad would say, i would go very far in this world and make him proud. i would be a lawyer and champion causes for mi familia, or perhaps be a diva at the metropolitan opera house and bring glory to la familia.

all for la familia, and i would never want for anything. never would i dread my husband returning home, never would i be beaten and dragged around the house by my hair, unable to escape because my lack of education barred me from ever getting a decent job and thus couldn't support myself.

in this, my bio-dad was a success. i am an intelligent, self-sufficient woman able to make my own choices and support my own needs.

however, something was always lacking. i could see the subtle beauty in walking a step behind a man, the gentle protection in a man who spoke for a woman in public, the respect in helping a woman out of a car. true chivalry is more than holding a door open for a woman, or ordering for her when out at a restaurant. it's more than simply doing these things.

it is the understanding of why these things are done.

by the old code, a knight was a lady's champion, offering her protection in a world where she might come to harm. anyone with sense knew better than to molest a knight's lady, for he would pursue them to defend her honor. in this world of women's rights, license to carry a concealed weapon, and martial arts defense classes, it's been proven a thousand times over a woman is quite capable of protecting herself.

this is not the point.

men were made to protect and provide, to act, and to do. women were made to love and to nurture, to intuit, and to create. i believe this. women's energy blossoms to its fullest when it is creating and nurturing, loving and caring. (true, not all women are like this, but of course it's just understood i'm talking in generalities.) men's energy shines its strongest when they are protecting and providing for their homes, acting and doing. the balance of male and female energy comes when they act in synergy, addressing the balance of yin and yang, acting to the fullest in the ways nature made us strongest and enabling our partner to do the same. being women makes men better able to be men, and vice versa. and we love them for it.

i would love a man who could protect me, and provide for our home. if he loved the idea of my staying at home to raise our children and make our house a home, it would make me happiest. let him provide for our home, while i remained behind and built the foundation of that home. now, in this day of two-income families, i understand if that's not possible, and that's fine, too. i love my career and i am happy in it.

it's the mentality i cherish, the deep-seated respect for both genders, their roles, their strengths, and their weaknesses. in the old code, there was no room for selfish sexism, only an appreciation for and understanding of the sacred duty to support and foster the strengths of your opposite by living up to the full potential of your own gender. this way created synergy.

sexism came, and upset the balance.

feminism came to redress it, but in its wake left generations of girls who grew into women confused and feeling guilty if they wanted to choose anything other than the freedom to do everything yourself, be a bitch, and take what you want. that works in the corporate world, but it sorely fails to address the balance needed in a more intimate union. if i ever said i wanted to be a stay at home mom, i was met with a lot of apprehension, or outright disgust. when i said i was made to be One of Two, i had "you don't need a man to complete you!" thrown at me from so many angles it made my head spin and my heart hurt. when i said, "i want another baby," i got scoffed at and was told not to be a disgusting slave to the base animal drive to procreate. i was told to smash the goddamned biological clock already. i was asked if i'd thought things through, if i wasn't absolutely sure because, sheesh, i had so much more freedom in my single life!

i'm sure they meant well, but family and friends had been programmed by the women's movement whether they knew it or not, but had no inkling of the true goal: freedom of choice. how can it be said i am truly free to choose if no one will permit me to choose to reject the model of the Independent Woman of the New Millennium? of the Uber-Bitch? of the Corporate Dragon Lady who is just as comfortable in $500 prada heels as she is in combat boots? in my religion, barefoot and pregnant is a position of ultimate power and holiness, as i stand connected to the life within me and the life of the Mother beneath my very feet.

where is the man who will order for me in a restaurant, hold the door open for me, help me with my coat? where is the man who stands when i enter or leave a room because he understands the power i hold as a woman, and knows i grant him the same respect and show it in how i keep his home and raise our children? men have it in them to be knights-errant, to be noble and just, strong and respectful and deeply loving. women have it in them to be humble and surrendering, for to be humble is to have the ability to truly show gratitude for those tokens of affection men bring to us through virtue of their abilities, like opening a difficult pickle jar or retrieving the wine glasses on the top shelf that are too high to reach. to be surrendering is to relinquish the desire to control the outcome and every aspect of a relationship we can't control, anyway. to be surrendering is to accept him the way he is, and to appreciate his abilities and show gratitude for the ways he shows his love.

men know we can open the jar ourselves, but they do it for us because men do things, and they do to show their love.

men like women who are soft and delicate, who don't try to change him, who have a pretty smile, a beautiful heart, and a brilliant brain. women like to be and feel pretty, to have soft skin and painted toenails, to be liked for who we are, and to show how smart we are. they like us when we are exactly as we already like to be. why, then, is there such a battle between the sexes when there can be such glorious harmony?

the concept of courtly love took sex out of the equation, for often the knight's lady was in some way unattainable -- whether it be social status, distance, or some other factor. thus it became necessary for a lady and her knight to rise above lust and infatuation, and create some other foundation for their relationship. they had to learn to love, honor, and cherish one another.

and thus was the tapestry of the old code woven: love, honor, and charity.

"the motto of chivalry is also the motto of wisdom; to serve all, but love only one."
honore de balzac (1841)

monday morning check-in

i thought i would actually write a post this morning, but then i thought about this. i found a vid on myspace that was just too beautiful not to share and i thought, "we were here. this was our bangin' Funky party." then i remembered The Book of Genesis According to the Funk and realized this is The United Snakes of the Jiggy Funk! we're here, baby!



Crab Supernova Explosion



may the Funk be with you.

delena haiku

i wrote this just now for a friend of mine. i'm always saying that if i were an organic Amazon, hardcore rockin' lesbian, she would so totally be my wife by now. however, i am still quite the lover of men and, yes, may the jokes concerning my vegetarianism and heterosexuality abound. soybeans are another excellent source of protein, thanks...

but anyway, humor aside, i wanted to fill your hearts with warmth and share this haiku i wrote for her simply because she's such an inspiration to me. she's a close and very dear friend, and i absolutely adore her. it was in answer to her question, "why do i love you so damn much?"

like a hand mirror,
i reflect your gorgeous self
right back atcha, babe. =)

you are like the wind --
refreshing and uplifting.
laughter of the sky.

you are like the earth --
beautiful and majestic.
you know i speak truth.

you are like the sun --
golden in your happiness.
you shine, it warms me.

you are like the sky --
wise to the far horizon.
i look up to you.

you are like the sea --
deep darkness harbors untold
riches of your heart.

you are like sheree --
my close and dear, lovely friend...
closest to my soul.

brezsny-on-the-blog

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): During your entire life, you have maybe never been as free as you are now from the need to be rescued by some savior. You don't need anyone to rescue you from your own dark fantasies because, at least for the moment, your bright fantasies have rendered them obsolete. You don't need anyone to liberate you from oppression or enslavement, because you are fully empowered to do the job yourself. You don't even need anyone to deliver you from evil, since your recent hard work has made evil allergic to you.


well! what more is there to say, then?

...actually, there might be a few things. naturally, the first being "i must not rest upon my laurels." the second, perhaps, being that now the Year of Secrets is over and we're almost halfway through the Year of the Delena with its bigger, wilder, and more exciting challenges, perhaps it's time to change my eyes yet again to see not "challenges," persay, but "opportunities."

"adventures."

"blessings."

the universe is wildly in love with me and is daily conspiring to shower me with blessings. every day upon waking, a hundred things have already gone right for me, proof of the work of thousands of people in their tireless effort to make sure my day does begin well. i can flip on a switch, and electricity zooms through the wires to light up the room. i live in a temperature-controlled environment, my bare feet are massaged by soft carpet which is the result of people's labor to make and install it purely so that my feet can enjoy the feel of it. the sun is at the precise distance from earth to guarantee life upon our planet. i take a breath and am assured our atmosphere did not bleed off into the Void.

miracles of existence, and all of them there purely so i may enjoy them.

my legs work, my eyes see and my ears hear (albeit not very well, but they do). i might have scoliosis, but i walk upright without need of a brace. i have a car in working order which gets me to my job, which i adore. my hands work, able to perform such delicate and precise activities such as brushing my teeth, fixing my hair, crocheting an afghan, touching my family members to convey affection.

i am finally free of the old delena, and i have put on the chunky, pink platform shoes of Delena of the Funkywild. i emerged from the cocoon into wilder, freer, and more ecstatic versions of my Funky self. for the first time i truly feel the weight of the Old World has left my shoulders, and the shell of my former body is left far behind. i am the solidarity of the earth, with the depths of the ocean in my soul, and the wind in my hair. in my heart shines the sun; in my womb glows the moon. my true self is love.

there is only Love.

< /censored? >

the one law iGoddess has always had is, "no censorship -- ever." it has been my guiding light and support from the very first day i set foot in the blogosphere. blogs were still actually kinda new back then. and at first it was the only place i had in my life where i could be completely honest with some of the things that were going on.

sometimes, looking back on that lonely, confused, neglected new wife and mother that wrote her first entry and posted it online with all the trepidation and hope a castaway feels tossing that message in a bottle into the waves, all i can think is, "that poor girl." and when the memories of the Baseball Bat Incident resurfaced after fourteen years of utter burial, the response i received only boosted me up and supported my decision to maintain utter, brutal, and ugly honesty here.

it makes the beautiful things so much brighter...

sometimes i wonder what it is about the whole thing, y'know? i mean, i think i've gained a measure of respect in my little blogging iVillage. there's never judgement, no matter how stark my posts can be. perhaps that says something for getting to know someone online; there's always a measure of distance instead of being a real, solid person standing right before you and into whose eyes you may see the reality of the things mentioned in their blog. and to a point, that's true.

but i had a conversation with someone recently about how people are so busy maintaining their façades and it's the nitty-gritty of life behind the masks that make them real. well, i've made a good habit of being real up here, and working as hard as i can to make the difference between what's up here and what's in the flesh as small as possible. of course, what's up here is sometimes a bit freer with language and opinions, but there's also nothing i've said here that i haven't said in the presence of my family.

i think part of it comes down to vulnerability. long-time readers of iGoddess will find familiar my confused lament about how the unconditional love and acceptance i receive from my family is nonexistant in the wide world of relationships. then again, a small while ago i realized why this is. the first tenet of Witch is "personal responsibility," and if there is a situation or difficulty, we must understand our contribution before we can move towards harmony.

needless to say, mine was not a childhood (or young adulthood) in which vulnerability was encouraged. it was ravenously devoured. i began to hide it. the few times i've played card cames with people who were rather serious about the game have told me that while i might not be the best at cards (i freakin' suck at poker, i swear), i had the best poker face and no tells whatsoever. i've also been told that the only way to know when i'm actually truly, deeply upset is because i give nothing away. the deeper my distress, the calmer i get. my breathing is perfectly even, my face void of expression. these were my defenses against the pain of having my vulnerability exploited.

and yet, with my (adopted) family i am dynamic, soft, vulnerable, and open. there is free communication, respect, and wholehearted acceptance. this is something i thought was isolated to family and which i would never find elsewhere. however, i smashed the glass and hit the Big Red Button that said, "I Change My Mind."

i must also change my Self. when i declared my new aim --to enrich my life with a loving, committed relationship built upon radical intimacy and respect-- i knew i would have to change many things within myself. i have resolved to be more open to chances and opportunity; to be more vulnerable by revealing my thoughts and feelings more; by surrendering to the universe in order to live in the moment and accept what comes; by receiving what people offer me and knowing i am worthy of their affection as a shining being; by trusting; by letting go of fear and knowing i will be unconditionally loved by those worthy of my love.

do you know what i've found so far? *laughs* i'll tell you...

i've found the real me, buried so long ago she was believed lost forever. i've found the freedom to exercise my true nature, which is one of pure love.

a pox on all technology!

i promised pictures of the gorge the other day.

if i remember correctly, i'd also promised pictures (at least one) of me at the vampire ball.

so far, i've failed you miserably. but i swear, the great god BIOS --god of computers and all related modern technology-- hates me. fie, fie i say! a pox upon any- and everything that breaks simply because i'm in the room.

my camera decided to have some sort of grand mal seizure right before the trip. it won't stop flashing at me, takes pictures of absolutely nothing, tells me it's off when it's clearly on, and the list goes on. and the scanner doesn't work, so i can't even digitize the portraits taken of me at the ball.

and believe me, i looked damn hot. 80 bobby pins, ninety minutes in the salon chair, and my best "You Are So In For It" red lipstick with plenty of gloss for the perfect wet sheen, and i was the dark goddess of sultry deliciousness.

there must be pictures, damn it all to the ninth hell!

ah well. i shall find a way (don't i remember something about *mj* buying a new scanner recently? hmm...), and i shall endeavor to buy a new camera. preferably one without epilepsy.

and now i leave you with more delena haiku, inspired by my trip:

raining at the start,
i left the clouds behind me --
stepped into a dream.

enchanting colors,
sun to make me recall home.
i was smiling bright.

sunshine kissed my skin.
music thundered in the car.
wind laughed through my hair.

delena haiku

i'm off to the gorge --
me, the road, and the cam'ra...
possibilities!

brezsny-on-the-blog

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): It's an excellent time to make yourself more magnetic to blessings. You might want to experiment, therefore, with good luck charms or magic invocations -- anything that you imagine might attract benevolence into your life. How about the potion that is popular in South Africa right now? It's a concoction cooked up from ground-up vulture bones. Or maybe the kind of mystic jewelry I saw advertised in one of the tabloids, a necklace made of meteorite chunks? Both of those would pale in comparison, however, to the thing I consider the very best attractor of blessings. It's the sacred metaphorical talisman that Tom Waits recommends in his song "Get Behind the Mule": Always keep a diamond in your mind.


just as long as i can make it a pink diamond, mr. brezsny, i'm all for pinning my ear to the wisdom post and my eye to the line.

and so, having said that, i give unto you, Fans of Funk, my invocations and charms for attracting blessings:

while standing in a mud puddle and hugging myself, i dissolved a four-leaf clover on my tongue and visualized myself riding piggyback on my future mate.

i drew a picture of copulating hummingbirds on a dollar bill and taped it to a road sign on a street with a suggestive name.

then i stood on top of a mobile home wearing all red clothes, and hurled a chunk of stolen meteorite as far as i could while shouting out the name of my beloved -- whatever that may be...

then i built a blazing fire, stripped naked, smeared war paint on my body in the style of my native american ancestors, shook my snake tooth rattle and waved my mummified chicken foot over my head, hopped on one foot, and balanced a jello cake on my head.


...'kay, no, not really.


what i did do was forget all about trying to glom on to my perfect mate and instead decided to make myself into the perfect mate. this year, i wine and dine me and make me my perfect lover and mate.

whether i find anyone, i want to be my perfect mate, and it all comes down to two qualities: beauty, and truth!

i will then gather my kitty paraphernalia, in the great name of Bast, and infuse my glittering, pink-and-purple kitty necklace with all the phantasmagoric, divalicious wonderfulness that is Delena of the FunkyWild in hopes of acquiring the grace and poise of the house kitty, the self-confidence of the lion, and the sultry languor of the panther.

oh yes. it will be mine!

recently i have come to realize the almost-futile, holy-grail-doomed quest that is seeking perfection within myself. it will remain ever elusive and just plain lame to continue chasing such an ephemeral dream. and so, in the spirit of the japanese artful discipline of wabi sabi, i have come to the realizion that i am perfect just the way i am, glorified in all my flaws --not because i revel in mediocrity, but because nature has infused me with the beauty of asymmetry, the poetry of curves and dark colors, and the wisdom of discernment that upholds my virtues all the higher because i possess such beauty in the midst of flaws.

i am not perfect. but i am perfect for someone. the perfection of perspective.

out there, Somewhere, is the beholder who shall gaze upon me and love me...for in their eyes i will be perfect, flaws and all.

the breathtaking and oft-praised pink diamond is a precious stone with imperfections which mar its color. and the flaw is glorified, even sought after...

sacred life sunday

my beloved kitten, Rumblestrut, whom i saved on snowy christmas
and introduced to the good life: catnip mousies, wholesome food,
clean water, warmth, luvins, a soft bed,
and an endless array of things to get into.

i had tried to get a pic of him napping on the kitty tree,
but of course he pouts because i killed the kitty zen.
delena the zen-slayer.
rumblestrut the guilt-tripper.

he helps me find my inner kitty...

what's that word again?

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upside to the single life

i was talking with *t* about the whole breakup with *sy* thing. we got to talking about how dating can really seem to suck when you're discouraged like i am. i'm really trying to keep myself positive and upbeat. i've changed my manner and appearance to something a little more relaxed and approachable. i've spent $150 in the last week on singles websites like eHarmony, etc. i've bought books to help me change my mentality, get me into a better, more realistic frame of mind and some perspective. i'm not yet ready to go out there --alone-- to places where real people meet real people. y'know, places like the local watering hole, dog park, book stores. not yet ready for that because...well...people might not believe it, but i'm shy as hell. i don't know how to break the ice, approach people, or be outgoing when i'm not surrounded by people i've known for years. around new people, i'd much rather sit against the wall and watch. so it's hard for me to go "out there," and people who know me just don't seem to understand that.

so as i sit here and struggle with this state of singleness that i really don't enjoy, i thought i'd put a list up here of the upside to the single life. things i enjoy about being alone...

1.) i can sleep in and not feel guilty
2.) i don't have someone in bed keeping me awake (i'm the lightest sleeper in the universe)
3.) there's no one to look at the dirty dishes in the sink and wonder if i'm a slob
4.) being single is less expensive -- dinner and a movie is cheap for one!
5.) running around in my flannel jammy pants & pink fuzzy socks is damn sexy
6.) no comments to endure when i go without a bra
7.) farting with impunity
8.) don't have to drive anywhere if i don't want to, & gas is expensive even for the Funkmobile
9.) no guilt over how good i am at Dead or Alive (xbox 360)
10.) more leftovers for me

of course, nothing beats someone who loves me, treats me gently, showers me with affection, and holds me while i sleep, but hey. i'm being positive!

brezsny-on-the-blog

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): When the first George Bush ran for U.S. President in 1988, he worried that he and his wife Barbara appeared less affectionate in public than their opponents, Michael and Kitty Dukakis. "Sweetsie," he wrote to her, "Look at how Mike and Kitty do it. Try to be closer in, more romantic on camera. I am practicing the loving look, and the creeping hand. Yours for better TV and more demonstrable affection. Your sweetie-pie-coo-coo." Though my moral principles make it tough to ask you to imitate any president named Bush, it's my astrological duty to do that, at least in this one matter. Your Love Quotient has got to go way, way up. So please: Practice the loving look and the creeping hand. And find an excuse to call someone "sweetie-pie-coo-coo." [Source: *My Dear President: Letters Between Presidents and Their Wives.*]


hmm...

ironic, don't you think? especially considering i'm still riding the dating horse pell-mell towards gods-know-what.

not that i have anyone to practice on, loving looks or creeping hands... i go to bed alone, wake up alone, and i think the only reason *sy* keeps calling me on occasion is to feel better about himself. but i'm not sure. all i know is i wish he'd stop. trying to move on and all.

and i've called people "sugar-butt" and "sweet pookie," i've even called some of my closer girlfriends "my sexy, mean strap-on queen," but "sweetie-pie-coo-coo???"

seppuku sunday

there's a definite Something going around the salon. this weekend we had three girls call in sick. on a weekend! on a gorgeous weekend, no less!

oi vey...

in the retail world, the weekend is usually the busiest time of the week. in the grooming world, it's pretty much the same. most people are home, got things to do, have people coming over, and the dog needs a bath or a trim. fluffy's getting so shaggy you can't even see his cute little brown eyes anymore, and he's starting to bump into things, poor kid. and bruiser rolled in pond mud and smells like stagnant water and duck crap. mm-mmm! nothing smells sexier to a dog than eu de what-the-fuck-is-that-stink. so to the salon they go!

of course, being short-staffed on a weekend is a death sentence for everyone else. i ended up pulling a 10-hr shift on saturday because there was no one else who was willing to close up the shop. of course, we were so slammed i never got an opportunity for any breaks or a lunch, which i got wrist-slapped for yesterday. of course, the same thing happened yesterday, but what can you do, hmm? and on saturday we got a visit from the wicked witch of the pacific northwest, whose dogs i had the extreme privelege of grooming.

can you just feel the sarcasm from there?

oh wow, this woman and her dogs were a piece of work. she harrassed me, insulted me, accused me of abusing her dogs, just all sorts of things. i can't help it her wretched yorkies were little monsters and bit me constantly. i slapped her with twenty dollars in special handling fees --which were approved by the mgr and to which she agreed-- and only when she continued to insult me and get hostile did my lovely disposition go out the window. i was always polite, but i won that insult contest hands down, and ended the conversation by turning my back on her and walking away.

some people only respond when you prove you're better at the game than they are, sadly enough. i hate being that way, and it takes quite a bit to push me that far. but don't insult my work when you haven't trained your dogs properly, and especially don't accuse me of animal abuse. animals and children are sacrosanct, thank you. people tend to forget their dogs' behavior reflects their own capabilities as pet parents. having helped train a service dog, where the quality of training and behavior are nose and tail above pet-quality animals, i know the difference very well.

however, i ended my weekend over at my parents'. have i mentioned how much i love them, and love going to their house? dad made menudo, and i always conveniently "forget" that i'm vegetarian whenever he makes it. i just can't help it! and dad fixed me two double ginger presses. basically it's whiskey and ginger ale, but he makes them much stronger than i do. a pint glass for me usually has a can of soda and half a shot, but he makes 'em double strength. and after dinner he had me try this very lovely port.

needless to say i stayed over last night...

i slept in their camper, and listening to the rain early this morning was glorious. the full-size bed was gloriously soft, and i pretty much crashed and slept the sleep of a happy daughter safe at mom and dad's. this morning dad and i enjoyed a cup of coffee together, and conversation. he got ready for work, and i went home --arms full of leftovers, as usual.

dad's such a wonderful cook. any man i find is gonna earn so many extra bonus points if i get to watch him enjoy himself in the kitchen. personally, i love puttering around and have always found the kitchen to be "my" territory, but my dad's the most masculine gentleman i know and watching him in the kitchen is part of that masculinity. my mom's definitely the luckiest woman in the world, i think. i'm the second luckiest: he's my dad.

e-signs of the iTimes

i'd say i'm back in the saddle again in the dating world, but it's more like i ran straight at the horse, jumped on bareback, and took off at a mad gallop.

i reinstated my membership over at eHarmony and took out a month membership over at match.com just to see what would happen. i've told all my friends that not only am i wanting a serious, committed relationship, but i even said i'm offering an award of 500$ to the person who introduces me to my future spouse.

it's my way of saying, "dude, i'm serious."

meeting people in the real world is a little more difficult, especially since i work in a small salon surrounded by nothing but women. i have no interaction with the other people at work, really. and i'm the new person, so it's not like they're even familiar faces i've seen for the past year like at my old store.

we'll see what happens, though.

brezsny-on-the-blog

CAPRICORN (Dec 22-Jan 19): I've got three messages for you. They may seem unrelated, but by this time next week you will see that they are intimately interconnected. 1. Unless you were raised in the woods by badgers, it's a perfect moment to slip into your second childhood. 2. Unless you really can't stand having your mind changed, it's an excellent time to launch a daring project that would have seemed impossible to the person you were a year ago. 3. People unsympathetic to your cause may think you're in the throes of delusions of grandeur, but those of us who have faith in your untapped powers say they're not delusions but viable fantasies.


last week after i smashed the glass and slammed my palm down on the Big Red Button, i took a step back and re-evaluated my life. there were a lot of things there that just didn't work anymore, no matter how perfect they were at the time of their inception. i decided to hold a sort of benevolent judgement day, tearing down everything that didn't work for me anymore and declaring a new aim.

and no, mr. brezsny, these three things make perfect sense to me right at this moment. i didn't know it was coming the way you don't know a glass door is coming. you only know it's there after you slam face first into it in front of all your friends.

but it's there. delena makeover and transmogrifaction (transmogrification?) seems to be the theme right now. and this applies also to Project: Bio-Mom.

i'm making myself over. i'm not only headed back to the gym today, but now that the produce section is getting a little more impressive, thoughts of a heavy-duty juicer have been dancing in my head again. there's a supply of ingredients for healthy smoothies in the fridge, and as soon as i feel up to it, i'm gonna wade through another detox. emotional, physical, spiritual.

to my sorrow but also to my relief, i'm saying "merry part" to my goddesses of war, retribution, and destruction whom i've served so faithfully. i've learned many lessons, and they've helped hone my core of strength to the keenest edge, but their demands also stand in the way of learning Love. i am unshakable. i can stand on my own. i can defend myself against those who would devour me for themselves. i am of Those Who Bleed But Do Not Die. death is my intimate ally and i know many of his secrets, but he can no longer be my bedfellow.

it's high time i not only realized my bombastic, soft divalicious center of Funky Love, but took hold of it and made it mine. i am She Who Takes No Shit (thank you, Lilith), but i am also Delena of the FunkyWild. i am a fantastic mother with hardcore values, and my hatchling is the luckiest kid in existence. the iGoddess-hatchling will be amazing. i am (almost) thirty, flirty, and fabulous. i've entered the prime of life, and i demand only the best. i will have love, and commitment, and intimacy, and really great sex...and all with one person for the rest of my life. i will meet him and he will be wonderful and everything i ever wanted. there will be more children. i will have beauty, truth, freedom, and love. i will become one with my Funk.

i couldn't do all that, have all that, say all that while faithfully serving the goddess i was called to serve. i am a servant of Goddess and take that very seriously, and when the goddesses of war, death, and destruction called (and everyone else stayed silent), i bowed my head and said, "i am yours." my apprenticeship was long and arduous. i lost much...but nothing i really needed. i only thought i did, and thanks to them i've learned to recognize the difference. and i've gained immeasurable skill and strength under their guidance. but too much pruning, too many spiritual apocalypses, was killing me inside. and it was defeating me.

it is now time to learn to be quiet, to perhaps be alone with The All for a time. i will worship, i will serve. and i will return to my people when i have received visions (as was done in the old world). but in the meantime i will let grow those things which have heretofore been held back. my Funk early last year was premature, but we all know the flower which has remained dormant all winter springs forth more beautiful than ever.

i will be a force to be reckoned with. we're making me over. so mote it be.

it's a question of motherhood

just a quick note to see how you are. your son has been asking for you... ps. you're going to be an aunt in late sept. miss you... love you, mom.


three mothers mentioned on that little sticky note placed into the box i received from my li'l sister *t* today. it had my christmas present inside (very prompt, i know, but it's hilarious), and a half dozen packages of my favorite chili in the world which, to my everlasting dismay, is impossible to find up here.

but i digress. the bio-mom has sent me another message. the last one arrived over a year ago, a small note saying "love you, miss you, thinking of you" stuck onto a small, private christian press book about daily blessings. i knew she was trying, but unfortunately in the wake of those words she spoke before my handfasting with *j*, it just didn't really seem to matter. my rage has cooled, as has my hatred, but the hypocrisy of her entire life still pisses me right the fuck off. in the three-or-so years since i've been rebuilding my relationship with the bio-dad, i've noticed how much divorce has agreed with him. he's really mellowed out, he's happier, he does things he enjoys. he bought a motorcycle, a big ol' hog he rides around town with *aj*, my little brother (who has a crotch rocket of his own). my bio-mother, on the other hand, went wild and turned childish. of course, it probably was her first taste of freedom, and she just finally had her chance to be seventeen while in her mid-fifties. scary.

but the hypocrisy enrages me. it still hurts to this day that i walked away from my dream of being someone's Mommy. there are bigger things out there than mommyhood, namely not abusing the shit out of your kids. it's taken me years of hard work to undo what was done to me by the adults in my life i wholeheartedly and unquestioningly trusted. i recognized the dangers i posed to my precious offspring, and i said goodbye to the whole thing. yes, my bio-dad beat us. my bio-mom let him...to save herself.

if you ever wanna see me go from zero to sixty in nothing flat, just bring up the topic of child abuse.

as a mother who sacrificed her motherhood, i say hers was the greater crime. no amount of denial, insecurity, self-doubt --nothing-- can justify throwing a child to the wolves like that. especially when it was her own children. giving birth is an unspoken promise to the universe you'll sacrifice whatever's necessary for the sake of that new person, from your dreams to your security to your very damn life. it's just what motherhood is.

i sacrificed my motherhood to be a good mother.

for the past couple of years i've been thinking it's high time to write her another letter. my first one, a few weeks after that fight we had, went unanswered. her weak attempts at reconnection over the years has been confusing. i am purely confused about the woman. and i've been holding back from writing her because i know i will still rip her a new one for her audacity, hypocrisy, and disrespect. i am a better mother than she ever was.

at the same time, thoughts of the iGoddess-hatchling has made me think excessively of li'l *c*. i want to be raising him soooo badly, and i know i never will. i want to be more active in his life, and i know i can't afford to. big *c* expects me to pay for all his travel (contrary to our agreement beforehand), bitches at me about money (while living rent-free with his mother in a gorgeous house in sacramento and driving a paid-off 2000 pontiac grand am), and cops attitude with me whenever i try to call my son. it gets to be such an ordeal that i end up nearly in tears by the end of it and am heartsick for days afterward. they never initiate phone calls, like it's all my responsibility. "oh," they say, "we never thought we'd hear from you," they say when i call, and yet they have my fucking phone number, too, the assholes.

sometimes i fantasize about being so rich i can afford a league of lawyers on retainer and sue the shit out of my ex for custody.

unfortunately, it's not my son that makes me sick. it's his father, and dealing with all that stupid shit associated with him. i've only now, in the five years since i left him, finally repaired my credit enough after the damage my marriage did...to include my ex's bankruptcy that ripped my credit a new one.

i've debated legally waiving my maternal rights, thinking it would be better for li'l *c*. the gods only know what he thinks about my rare contact with him. either way, i know it won't be until he's much older before he hears my side of anything.

and part of me wonders if i should give that chance to my bio-mom, to explain her actions. before anyone agrees because it's "just the right thing to do" (and subsequently makes me puke), i also have to wonder if her motives matter at all when what she did was throw her children into the lion pit to save her own sorry skin. fuck fairness. fuck maturity. and damn well fuck enlightenment and "being better than her." FUCK it. she can face the godsdamned firing squad and see how she likes it.

oh, she fought for one of her children, yes. her firstborn, her daughter, her favorite. after that, it was too much work. she told me that once. it was too much work for her to protect me when i was too small to protect myself. i was as fucked up, abused, shamed, and humiliated as i was because it was too much fucking work for her to protect me. what the absolute fuck?!

i can't forgive that. large parts of me were damaged beyond repair. i had to completely remake those parts. does anyone know and appreciate just how much fucking work that is? how much courage and strength it takes, and how much fucking fear i had to face? talk about looking into the face of terror. how much better of a person would i have been, if i hadn't had to spend so much time playing catch-up? what sorts of chances would i have had? would i have met someone special, the right man, a lot sooner if i hadn't had to spend so much time fearful and distrusting of abusive men? would i have been fucked up at all, if my role model had been someone who was strong enough to stand up for her children, thus teaching me i was worth something? would i have had to waste so much time re-inventing self-esteem, if i had been taught i had worth?

so many questions. i think it's time to write the bio-mom a letter, but not quite the letter she's expecting. i'm confused. i can't resolve her hypocrisy in my mind. i can't forgive her judgement of me as an unworthy mother, when i gave up my very motherhood for the well-being of my child. she failed me. better i'd never have been born than to have my mother fail me like that. true, people can say that i wouldn't be the wonderful, Funkalicious diva i am now if all those things hadn't happened, and they'd be absolutely right.

i'd be someone even better. and i deeply resent being robbed of all those opportunities.

[ps. my bio-mom is the woman in red. the handsome gentleman standing on her left is my li'l bro *aj*, and next to him is my li'l sis *t*. the giant next to her is her bf, and the two women on the far left of the pic is *aj*'s ex and her mother. this was taken at *aj*'s graduation.]

sacred life sunday

(yes, my bathroom is this clean. it is delena's haven of scensual delight and beauty. inside the funky orange jars are different homemade bath salts; the soap is wild honeysuckle from bath & body works; the different perfumes are surrounded by small jewelry boxes, scrunchies, and a set of my tarot cards; the green candles in the background are dragons with rhinestone eyes; and yes, the money is next to my blessings candle, hard-earned tips from grateful customers. and yes, the bath curtain is pink...)

attack of the id

about a month before *sy* broke my heart, i'd begun to have strange dreams and ...we'll call them "impulses." and they were troubling, for as much as i was (am?) in love with *sy*, i was constantly having strange dreams about *m*. and they were getting stronger all the time. i had no idea what was going on, why, or what to do about it.

so i did nothing.

and these past couple weeks --depression notwithstanding-- i noticed that not only were these dreams and impulses getting stronger, but they were downright overpowering. what did i want? what was i trying to tell myself? was there something unresolved in the *m* realm?

i didn't miss him. not really. i was sorry to have lost a pretty fun friend yes, but then again he hadn't really been a friend to me since before even moving out here.

and then, a few days ago, the urge to talk to him was so strong it nearly floored me. it certainly frightened me. i missed him.

what the...?

i began to list every single reason he was unhealthy for me, and totally not good for me. i listed every reason my family had to dislike him. i reminded myself of his outburst that finally drove me away. i relived my week of emotional detox, where *ds* and *ks* were literally afraid to let me by myself, i was such a wreck.

this man. is not. healthy. for me.

he is the very antithesis of the delena.

and yet the desire to be near him, to talk to him, to consider if i should try to get back together with him was scaring me with its strength and power. i came home from work last night and glued myself to my xbox purely so i wouldn't put on shoes and go talk to him right then. i knew he was home, and awake...

and i couldn't understand why.

of course, understanding the why of things is my habit, and so i wouldn't let myself act until i knew the source and understood it. it took my siblings to point it out to me. they're so smart...

and i think they're right. it isn't so much *m* that is drawing me as the simple fact that i was closest to careerlovemarriagechildren with *m*, even when we were miserable together. and he fought to try to get me to stay. and i mean he fought. albeit way too late to do anything but inspire resentment and suspicion, but he fought. *sy* just let me go because the psycho hose beast was holding his daughter hostage --which is despicable and disgusting and only proves what i've been saying about her all along. but whatever.

but *m* fought, and it was the first time in a long time that i felt he really wanted me. and we wanted kids together. and marriage. and i already had my career...

a part of me wonders if the closest i'll ever come is that disaster of a relationship. it's pathetic.

but i've told my friends: "if i were looking for a new job, i'd let you all know so you could help me find something good. well chicas, i'm in the market for a good man. if you find anything, lemme know."

delena haiku

rock, tree, salt, sand, sea
the place where earth meets water...
i am myself here.

breaking the glass

delena haiku

again and again
i'm drawn to where wave meets shore.
all is calm inside.

delena haiku

a lone gull in flight,
riding the cold sea breezes,
searches for haven.

brezsny-on-the-blog

CAPRICORN (Dec 22-Jan 19): "The great theme is not Romeo and Juliet," said poet Anne Sexton. "The great theme we all share is that of becoming ourselves, of overcoming our father and mother, of assuming our identities somehow." This is certainly your great theme, Capricorn. And it's especially important for you to devote yourself to it now. You're at a turning point in your life-long transformation. You're being presented with a clear-cut choice between sinking back into the ill-fitting yet comfortable mold that others have shaped for you, or else striding out into the frontier in a brave push to become a higher, deeper, more complete version of yourself.

on suset highway
over mountains and through rain
can respite be found.
--delena haiku

today i went in search of peace. or perhaps peace isn't the right word. but i went today in search of...something.

i actually woke up before 7; my boy was meowing so very pitifully outside my bedroom door. much as i love him, i don't let the little one sleep with me even though nothing would make me happier. alas, given i'm cursed as the lightest sleeper who ever lived, even his bath time keeps me awake and drives me nuts. i mean, it's wonderful he's so fastidious, but it's a nightmare trying to sleep with all that slurping and fussing and preening and grooming going on. drives me nuts. so he gets cuddles, then it's toss-out time when i want to finally go to bed.

so he woke me up with his crying and i let him in. i had actually intended to get up, but rumblestrut was so happy to be with me that he curled up under the sheets, his little grey-and-white chin resting on my hand, and he was purring so loudly i felt the vibrations in my chest. so we curled up together and took another nap. cat-induced narcolepsy.

i woke again around 10, this time determined to find what it was that tugged at me so. it was simple, getting ready. should the iGoddess-hatchling actually come into being, i'll miss these days of being so easily portable.

in oregon, there's really nothing worth much interest until you get to portland. the drive up the western side of the mountains is absolutely gorgeous, as is the drive through the columbia river gorge. however, once you hit wilsonville (about 30 mins or so south of downtown portland) there's nothing worth mentioning until you hit, say, san francisco. so i jumped on the freeway and headed north, and let the car go where it would. it rained off and on, typical of a portland april, and the sky was grey, and the warmest it got was around 50F. which, actually, is kinda warm up here.

two national parks and a thunderstorm later, i found myself on the oregon coast, taking a familiar route up to Hug Point, a favorite of mine. it's a secluded little cove, its entrance off the 101 so tiny you could blink at the wrong time and miss it. the little beach is maybe two football fields across -- maybe.

i always head to the far side. big surprise, huh? that little cave you see way in the distance is actually close to the parking lot. lots of people like to explore it. i have yet to do so. to get to this cove, you have to walk down a little incline, down wooden stairs that end a good two paces above nothing but rocks. and not big, climbable rocks, either. these are twist-your-ankle, no-reliable-footing kinds of rocks that extend the entire breadth of the cove, and about 50 feet in. there's no getting around them. that stretch of sand is about a third of hug point. the rest is rocks. not many people go there.

that's the point.

this huge rock jutting out of nothing is on my side of the cove. to me it's ginormous, and kind of reminds me of being at morro bay in california. that rock is famous. and sitting there between this jutting tooth of granite and the left arm of the cliffs, i always feel a little safer. like i'm flanked by two faithful sentinels who will make sure none approach me.

well, all except a curious little gull. unfortunately, my new camera i bought only yesterday is so new i had yet to realize the limits of its capacity, and the memory was already full before i could get a picture of him. no matter where i went, he was always there staring at me. curious little bugger, and bold as brass, too. i waved at him, stared at him, walked over to him, stuck my tongue out at him, and all he ever did was blink at me, turning his head this way and that as if thinking, "...the hell?"

i climbed rocks. i smelled seaweed and sand and brine. i felt the cold sting of the ocean breeze. my butt fell asleep on cold, sharp rocks bristling with tiny, razor-sharp barnacles. i scraped a knuckle on one of them. i listened to the churning, arthythmic roar of the waves restlessly pounding against one another. i heard the sigh of sea foam popping. i felt the pull of the tide, as i always do.

my favorite part of today was how i didn't have to say a single word as long as i didn't want to. i realized then that i'd gone searching for silence. in the chaos of work --with whirring dryers and fans, barking and howling dogs, ringing phones, clanging kennel doors, and women shouting over it all-- i can't hear anything but stress. in the echoing roar of depression and this black anger towards all men, i can't hear my heart. with my brother and sister, listening so hard for signs to their own moods, i've lost the sound of my own. in the clamor inside my own head --dates, errands, bills, online orders, available balances, insecurities, this utter failure as a lovable woman-- i can't hear anything else.

i just wanted silence.

i said seven words today, while ordering lunch. i'd even seriously debated writing it down, so i wouldn't have to break my wonderful silence, but i felt that might be too dramatic or drastic. i said, "clam chowder and salad, please." and then i said, "thank you," when my very nice server brought me my check with a smile on her face. but i was silent, and i didn't even pay attention to where my thoughts wandered. i let my emotions rise and fall as they would, rolling like the tide on the shore, burbling and foaming, gushing around rocks and filling gullies in the sand. and when they were done being felt, they receded back into the ocean of my soul...where the constant roar is muted, and soothing, and reminds us of the comforting roar that surrounded us when we first decided to sprout legs and climb out of the primordial soup.

a large part of me didn't want to go home because i knew i'd have to break the silence. i didn't want to. for the most part, i managed not to. none of my thoughts were completely focused. i wrote haiku. i read a little of the art of seduction, oh irony of ironies. vague thoughts of becoming other than myself began to surface, inklings that perhaps "being myself" was a load of bunk by misguided-yet-well-meaning people who had purchased at full price the politically correct propaganda of the new millennium. being myself hadn't worked. maybe i had to be more than myself. maybe it was time to remake myself. maybe the naked, granola, all my cards on the table, take-me-as-you-see-me organic amazon wasn't the right way to go. it might be genuine, but it's not exactly spiritually fulfilling. and i'm not happy, and i'm definitely no closer to ending this emotional exile known as "the single life." i tried embracing it, but i fucking hate it. and i hate living up to the labels others have given me, no matter how accurate they might've been at the time.

to be quite honest.

i've been approaching this event horizon for quite some time, possibly since my first suspicions that *m* and i were already falling apart. parts of me have already build their cocoons and are transforming themselves. other parts are boiling away excess. only now --even as i write this entry-- do i realize that while this idea seems new to me, already i've been undergoing the process of this new genesis.

and with that parting thought, i leave you with more delena haiku:

the deep ocean roar
calls to something deep inside--
perhaps calls me home.

april showers

i know that i'm bipolar, and yet it always manages to blindside me when it hits. another change. and this one's not so good. i need to withdraw into myself, and ironically enough that's terribly difficult to do when surrounded by people who love you. i want to be alone so badly. i miss *sy* so much, but whatever. every once in a while i even think of calling up *m*, but i keep trying to convince myself thoughts like those are only proof that right now i'm really, really ill. sometimes it even works. the truth is, i've looked into my future and i don't like the loneliness there. maybe it's a sign that i'm not strong enough inside to love myself enough so my own company is always enough for me. that's just not how i'm built. maybe that means i'm built inferior to the fantastic women who make it on their own and are fine with that. maybe it means i'm built differently. but different or not, somewhere along the line i was branded as a solitary figurine and i can't bear it. the proof is all around me, though, and i'm always saying i pride myself on my pragmatism. even if i don't like that the world is round, i have to accept it. same thing here. and yet, all i can be is myself. apparently that's not enough, not nearly. what's good enough for family is like kryptonite to lovers. the iGoddess-hatchling was a decision made in defiance, because what i really want is a lover and mate and childrearing partner. what i've got is an emptiness inside me so wide that it's kicked off the brain chemicals and i'm drowning in it.

fox force funk

a while ago, *ks* and i were having a conversation with *sy* over clove cigarettes about just what it means to be a silverfox. that was difficult enough. trying to explain our particular quirks only added to the mess, i think.

then again, i think it takes a particularly special individual to comprehend all things silverfox. we're a fox of a different color.

explaining my family to outsiders is always a challenge. most opt to simply take my references at face value when i say "my sisters and i," or "one of my brothers..." all told, between my biological family and my adopted ones, i have five sisters and three brothers. my youngest sister (bio) has the same name as the manager lady who --for comedy's sake-- is no longer a manager nor works in the same store as i do. we both transferred out due to The Stupid Drama over at my original salon. two sisters and one brother are biological, two sisters are adopted via my adopted parents, and *ds* and *ks* are my other adopted family. the family from which i received my new last name. and yes, i was so serious about both my new families that i went to court and changed my name.

so i have three families. cool, ain't it? i think so.

one thing that i think bonded the foxes together was kuma, the pom-chi-shih-poo wunderhund. he was the best little dog, and he considered us his pack. he was a working dog, a psychiatric service dog who was attuned to not one, but three individual human beings with our own quirks, training cues, and warning signs. and he learned us all, and he loved us all unabashedly. in some ways he was the heart of our unconventional family.

it's no secret i have bipolar disorder. in fact, it's such old news. saying, "hey, did you know delena's bipolar?" is kinda like saying, "hey! did you hear the earth is round??!?!" fucking duh. but having kuma around made going out so much easier. i was never alone, and i had him to focus on and talk to. he kept my mind from doing some of the things it does when i'm alone. it even made picking up the phone and calling strangers so much easier. he gave me confidence and strength and comfort. he made me laugh. he loved me. i have trouble with social situations, and sometimes even walking out the front door is terribly difficult. with him, it was so different...

but the silverfox family doesn't have him anymore, and we are lesser for his absence. but as we were trying to explain that night on the porch, all three of us foxes have some sort of disorder which makes the public a burden and a strain on us mentally and emotionally. and considering we're living in an apartment, we can't exactly fit psych service dogs in with us. at least, not right now.

and yet we have discovered that we are our own version of psych assistance when we go out together. we keep each other balanced and focused, and together we keep our strength. we do so much together that, while it might be hard for all of us to face the outside world at any given time, the fact we do it together makes it not so bad. we feed each other, clothe each other, support each other, shelter each other. now, nothing will replace the need for a four-legged furry at our right-hand side (since we can't be together everywhere), but the fact that we're all there for each other is just one of those remarkable things that we realized recently.

now, in their right mind, who wouldn't want to belong to such a family???

afflatus

"most gods throw dice but Fate plays chess,
and you don't find out 'till too late that [s]he's been playing
with two queens all along."
--terry pratchett


one of my biggest pet peeves is being misunderstood simply because someone else is too ignorant to consider asking me for clarification. i'm like my sister *cc*; there are some days when i sincerely believe fucktards should be wiped from the face of the earth. i could go into examples, like when my older bio-sister *k* read an entry on my blog years ago that pissed her off. i haven't spoken to her since. she was a fucktard that day. or like now, with my schedule at work fucked over because my mgr. heard what she wanted to hear instead of what i was saying. i hate that.

of course, i simply can't stand being misunderstood, period. so much shit happens when the ignorant take action. look at the US government.

i say this only because i feel the need to clarify something about myself: i am not a superstitious, fundamentalist pagan who believes we are mindless pawns in a titan game of chess. i am, however, aware there is more influencing our lives than we can cognitively perceive. i believe in reincarnation and that we are pieces of the universe trying to figure itself out, trying to learn the big lessons; that we are fragments of the AllSoul growing closer to itself by splitting apart and exploring the miracles of the mortal palette.

Infinity had so much Love that it had to share it with someone. but Infinity was alone, so It split apart and invented Creation because only in a finite state could such illusory concepts as "love," "loyalty," and "partnership" become real. i would say that it's amazing how, after a few millennia, everything begins to look the same...except that after that much time has passed, nothing will have the ability to surprise, amaze, or fascinate you. it's all the same, and those wonderful things like "happiness" and "devotion" have become gift-wrapped packages with nothing inside them. even the brightness of the wrappings will have faded.

Infinity was bored, and lonely (only after that much time, It had become so accustomed to Its own company that even loneliness had faded), and wanted to recapture those wonderful things it knew In the Beginning. for In the Beginning, there was light and It Was Good.

and so the AllSoul shut its eyes, focused Its will, and all the energy contained within Infinity went BANG! and the Jiggy Snake went, "WEE!"

Dichotomy was born.

for when Grey splits apart, a horde of spectra come into being, each with its own set of twins sitting on opposite ends, facing off. and Dichotomy had children of Its own (for Dichotomy was a full hermaphrodite): the twins Light and Dark, the twins Joy and Sorrow, the twins Hate-Love and Indifference, Hope and Despair...

and this big bang jostled Time out of her slumber. and She said, "if I am to measure all things, I must have points of reference. if there is to be a Genesis in all things, there must be a Terminus."

with this statement, the final children of the AllSoul came from the place where They had been waiting. "that is Our domain," said Life and Death.

and thus were mortals blessed as the luckiest beings in existence. and by "mortals," i don't just mean humankind, either. anything that's born, lives, and dies hit the jackpot in this little experimental snowglobe called Creation. pachyderms have the strongest sense of family of any mammal i know. dogs have cornered the market on devotion and loyalty. swans, whales, and wolves understand commitment better than 97% of the rest of the mammal kingdom. dolphins invented play...

the children of Dichotomy began to develop facets of themselves when humans began to give them names. humans have the ability to focus thoughts and energy with such constancy that, over time, that focus manifests into reality. how else do you explain the gods having different names in different regions, being so similar but having slight differences based on culture, and yet each god is alive and well and active in that place? humans create the gods just as much as the gods create humans.

and every time we are reborn, being that we are pieces of the All learning more about Itself, we choose which lessons we'll learn the next time around. we place ourselves in the best possible positions to learn those lessons. every person, every event in our lives is there because we have called them there. what we choose to do with them is up to us. that's why i always look for the lesson.

that's not to say the gods don't take an interest in certain specimens of the human experience. we resonate better with some more than others. sometimes there are those humans who've been working with certain dieties over the course of lifetimes. Fate has a certain amount of influence over us, as does Her brother, Free Will. as do Chance and Order, Good and Evil, Fries or a Side Salad...

and at any point in time, we are always free to break the protective glass, flip open the switch covering, and slam on the big red button that says, "I Change My Mind."

. . . . . *blink*

. . . . . . *blinkblink*. . . . . .













--- *long pause* ---

i think that's just about where i am right now. i'm looking at the button, i'm holding the baseball bat, but i can't quite bring myself to break the protective glass just yet.

brezsny-on-the-blog

CAPRICORN (Dec 22-Jan 19) - Want to know a secret? I "predict" the present, not the future. In other words, I discern unconscious patterns and invisible influences that are affecting you *now.* I also try to inspire you to read your *own* mind so as to uncover feelings that you've been hiding from yourself. So I can't necessarily tell you what specific events will transpire in the coming days. But I do suspect the following things are true, although you may not be aware of them yet: You are in the midst of redefining what home means to you. You've been neglecting a deep need that's a bit embarrassing to you. And there's a place in your foundation that's in disrepair and requires your immediate attention.


i've been in the midst of redefining what home means to me for quite some time now. my pack and i have spent considerable time lately trying to verbalize the family code, so to speak. this, of course, makes the iGoddess-hatchling extra special. we're a matrilineal family. i pray so hard for a girl it's not funny, and completely un-PC but i don't care. i want a girl, dammit.

but yes, mr. brezsny, i know i've been finding new definitions of my idea of "home." i have for quite some time. but i know i've been treating certain aspects of it as a big white elephant in my living room. shut up.

as for some deep need that's a bit embarrassing to me? you mean aside from the fact that all these words and feelings regarding the dead dream are piling up inside me and, because i know no one cares to hear or read about them, i've been holding it all inside and it's tearing me apart a little bit? at this point, i don't know whether the deep need is to talk about it until i stop mourning, or if it's just the fact that in this day and age mrs. cleaver isn't exactly an approved or acceptable goal to achieve and makes me seem a threat to progress and the womens' movement? all i know is that i'm choking on this need to sort through everything about my sorrow, rage, confusion, and helplessness, and on those times i've brought it up i've been met with a whole lot of silence.

a few nights ago i had this waking dream in which i had locked myself in an empty room with a large kitchen knife from my set, and repeatedly stabbed myself in the throat with it. in the dream, i had even lost grip of the knife but it continued to stab me on its own. i could feel the angled, downward pressure every time it bit into my throat. i could hear myself choking on blood and words and emotions. whenever i get sick, i wake up with a sore throat first.

now, naturopathically and magically speaking, i know exactly what this means. but hell if i know what to do about it. no one wants to hear a woman lament about never being able to be a stupid housewife, and no one wants to hear an inner girlchild crying about the terror that was life in a house like hers and how she used to play with stuffed animals like they were children and have an imaginary husband.

yeah, i didn't have imaginary friends. i had an imaginary husband. lame, isn't it?

it could also be the deep need to explore the aspects of the goddess who chose me (dammit), and to express my fascination with and love for her. but not many people like to hear about lilith, those people who are even familiar with a concept outside the realm of generic christianity. which is to say, "not many."

as for my foundation needing immediate attention to fix that spot of disrepair, i might have an idea what it is. one could say that i've let rage and vengeance creep into my Funk, which is like having beetles and dry rot eating away at the support beams of my inner mansion. and i'm struggling with it. but another someone could say that i've been struggling against the wrong things. lilith is no light and airy, funky fizzbang of a divalicious rockstar sort of goddess.

she's the one spoken of in the Song of the Rising Tides, the end of days:
...tremble,
o you children of seth
mother is coming.
mother is here.
with her lessons of madness
and hands full of blood
she comes to make the world anew
and her chariot is pain and horror...

see the broken chamber of 500 years
and the shattered crystal upon the floor
see the stones weeping and the dragons free
lilith is coming.
lilith is here!

there's a reason she's known as the Queen of the Hells. in babylon they called her Lamashtu. in greece she is Hecate. in india, she's called Kali. but kali and hecate have been "prettified" in some respects, and lamashtu is shoved into a corner. lilith is rarely known. she refuses to be cleaned up and made acceptable. there's a time and place for everything, and the Funk can't be All. too much of a good thing, right? to do that would be to deny aspects of myself. my Self.

what if the place in my foundation that's in disrepair and requires immediate attention isn't the fact i'm suffering the influence of my dark side, but the fact i'm denying it?