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Tuesday, September 3rd, 2002
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3:26 pm - Meh.
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| Sunday, September 1st, 2002
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6:08 pm - Broomstick Rally.
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But first, a message from our completely useless sponsors.
And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.
Broomstick Rally. I suppose, since the title of the entry is "Broomstick Rally" you'd probably like to hear about Broomstick Rally. So I guess I'll talk about Broomstick Rally.
Ummmm... it was... Fabulous, terrible, interesting, boring, too bloody hot, too fucking cold, and really really ... erm... Pagany. Is Pagany a word? I guess it is now.
Picture an open field of long grass, wildflowers, and the occasional nettle (ouch!) beset with a caravan of Pagans from all walks of life from all over England. Then, throw in a pub. Yes, a pub. (Oh yeah, we were really roughing it, let me tell you...)Toss in some ritual, some workshops, lots of music and storytelling, and season it with a bit of cannabis, and you have Broomstick Rally.
Did I have fun? Yes. Will I go again next year? Most definitely. Was it all happy faeries and fluffy bunnies? Nope. In fact I got quite depressed late Saturday afternoon. It might have been from lack of sleep, and it might have been from the incredible amount of new energy coming at me from all directions, but I started crying and couldn't stop. It was really annoying, and yet it felt kind of good, like I was getting rid of a lot of pent-up emotion and cleansing my soul a bit.
I'll talk more about it later on... I guess I'm still reeling from everything that happened, everyone I met, all the things I gained and lost...
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| Thursday, August 22nd, 2002
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3:49 pm - The creator answers her own survey...
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The "If I..." Survey
by Werevyrn
If I were older...
I'd have an excuse for my apparent dementia.
If I were younger...
I'd have an excuse for my immature behaviour.
If I could live forever...
I'd try as many ways I could think of to off myself. I'd get creative about it.
If I had a nifty super power...
I'd use it to get laid.
If I could shag anyone I wanted (living, dead, or fictional)...
If you know me at all, you know the answer to this question.
If I found someone's wallet...
I'd keep the money and return the wallet and any credit cards.
If I had a million dollars...
I'd build my very own Death Star.
If a homeless person asked me for money...
I'd kick him in the nads and tell him to get his crack money someplace else.
If I wore spandex...
people would scream.
If I knew all your secrets...
I'd use them to my advantage.
If I met the Pope...
I'd say, "Hey, Pope! How's it hangin'?"
If I died today...
I'd be a happy phantom, and I'd run naked through the streets without my mask on. (Thank Tori Amos for that.)
If I went to Heaven...
I'd probably be lonely. None of my friends would be there.
If I went to Hell...
I'd send you a postcard.
If I fell in love...
I'd get back up again and watch where I stepped the next time.
If I wished upon a star...
I'd wish for the stars to keep falling.
If I found a spider in my bathtub...
I'd capture it gently and put it out the window.
If I could kill one person and not get caught...
I'd kill my mother.
If I were a breakfast cereal...
I think I'd be Froot Loops. Just because of the OO's.
If I wasn't so stupid...
I wouldn't waste my time on these idiotic surveys.
If I were abducted by aliens...
I'd make sure they used the really nice vibrating anal probe and took lots of pictures. Then I'd charge people to look at them on the Internet.
If I suddenly woke up with a tail...
I'd squeal, "Yay!" and start bouncing around all happy.
If I had any friends...
I'd eat them.
If I couldn't get online...
my poor little social life would wither and die.
If I didn't like you...
I'd glare at you until you got the hint.
If I met the creator of this survey...
I'd kick her in the balls.
(the end)
Yeah I know. I've been substituting surveys for intelligent thought lately. I guess I just haven't had any intelligent thoughts. Damn, I'm having a bad month. Hormonally, I mean. Fuzzy head crampy headache-ness for weeks. Grrrrr.
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| Monday, August 19th, 2002
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8:22 pm - Who am I today?
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10:47 am - Another silly survey thing.
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Seven Things That Scare You:
1. My mother.
2. Myself.
3. Teletubbies.
4. Man-made heights
5. Being alone.
6. Crowds.
7. Drugs.
Eight Things That Make You Laugh:
1. Blair.
2. Muppets.
3. Stupid people doing stupid things.
4. Cats on catnip.
5. Courage the Cowardly Dog.
6. Skinny chicks trying to look like they have boobs.
7. Men.
Seven Things You Love (in no particular order)
1. Nature.
2. Sex.
3. Chocolate.
4. Harry Potter. Naked.
5. Star Wars.
6. Girls.
7. Thunderstorms.
Seven Things You Hate
1. 90% of the human population.
2. Tapioca pudding.
3. My mother.
4. "Cappuccino" from a machine.
5. Net lingo. (hi want 2 chat? asl ..... DIE!!!)
6. Rampant ignorance. (Goes with that 90% of the human population thing.)
7. Asthma.
Seven Things You Don't Understand
I can understand anything if I think about it for long enough. Next question.
Seven Things In Your Room
1. A life-sized owl made of papier mache, feathers, and natural fibers, with a small scoll tied to its foot reading "Will you marry me? -Blair. P.S., please respond in the normal way."
2. A hexogonal wooden box, with brass and ebony inlay, given to me by my first fiance. Inside it are various treasures of mine.
3. My walking stick, made of twisted hazel wood tipped with a three-pronged red deer antler.
4. A wooden chest containing Blair's magical supplies and ritual objects.
5. A plush Togepi Pokemon thing that talks.
6. A Buffy the Vampire Slayer calendar.
7. Purple furniture.
Right Now You Are
1. Not quite awake.
2. Hungry.
3. In need of a shower.
4. Slightly miffed that Blair left this morning without waking me to say goodbye.
5. Contemplating whether to go out today.
6. Glad it's raining.
7. Horny.
Seven Facts About You
1. I was born with several odd defects. My hip joints weren't formed, so my legs weren't attached. I was in a cast for the first few months of my life, and I never crawled. I just got up one day and walked.
2. My eyes turn gold when I'm angry or very, very aroused.
3. I talk to cats and plants.
4. My Chinese zodiac sign is the Fire Snake and I'm very proud of it.
5. I'm left-handed, and very proud of it.
6. I wear my great grandmother's wedding band on the pinkie of my right hand.
7. I'm always in some measure of physical pain.
Seven Famous People You Want To Meet
Forget famous. Famous people are boring. I want to meet real people.
1. Wolfie
2. Lindsey
3. Haknot
4. Oddley
5. Candice
6. Wheezy
7. Roman Dirge ( I guess he's kind of famous. He draws cool comics. )
Top 7 Songs People Should Give A Listen To
Music is very personal to me... people should listen to whatever they want.
Top 7 Things You Find Sexy
1. Intelligence.
2. Wit.
3. Eye contact.
4. Soft skin.
5. Silky, long hair.
6. A deep, sensual voice.
7. Unique sense of style.
Top Seven Movies (in no particular order)
1. Gladiator
2. Practical Magic
3. The original Star Wars trilogy
4. It's A Wonderful Life
5. The 5th Element
6. Silence of the Lambs
7. Cats Don't Dance
Top Seven Things You Say Most
1. Bloody hell!
2. I love you.
3. I hate you!
4. Bloody hell!
5. Oooohhhh YES!!!
6. Huh?
7. Bloody hell!
Seven Things That Make You Cry
1. Cruelty to animals.
2. Cruelty to children.
3. Onions.
4. My menstrual cramps.
5. Nightmares.
6. No more tea!
7. Occasionally, orgasms.
Seven Of Your Favorite Memories
Um ... I don't like to talk about my past. As evidenced by the many entries in this journal. My past is icky. I like now.
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| Sunday, August 18th, 2002
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11:46 am - Bad hair life
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Sometimes I think the world would end if my hair was ever to lie straight, or do anything I wanted it to do, or retain the colours I put into it. It's just the way it's always been. Sort of an indicator. Never quite the way I want it, like life, like the way I feel inside. Maybe I should just dye it black again. Black seems to be the only colour it likes. I hate the way red fades. I hate the way it goes sickly orange like a decomposing flower. Black doesn't fade, it only gets deeper and deeper. And you can get away with not washing it for longer. It's sort of a lazy colour, like that.
What the hell is wrong with me? I've got everyhthing I've ever wanted, could ever want. Why am I feeling like this? Damn the chemicals in my brain. Damn my past. Damn PMS. Damn everything. Except tea. I like tea. Tea is good.
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| Friday, August 16th, 2002
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10:56 am - Survey thing DW sent me.
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-- Name : Heather, Thessaly, and occasionally Severus
-- Birthdate : 01/12/1978
-- Birthplace : PAINesvile, Ohio, USA (Appropriate, ne?)
-- Current Location : Basingstoke, Hampshire, England
-- Eye Color : grey/green/gold
-- Hair Color : violent red with blonde roots
-- Righty or Lefty : Sinister.
-- Zodiac Sign : Capricorn. Chinese sign: FIRE SNAKE.
-- Innie or Outtie : innie.
-- Font : Aliens Ate My Mum
[ series 2 - your favorite ]
-- Music : NIN, Orbital, Mozart, Moby, Tori, Bjork, Underworld, Nightwish, random Baroque stuff, Rimsky-Korsakov, Pink Floyd, Haysi Fantayzee, Mindless Self Indulgence, KMFDM... eh, you get the idea. I'm ecclectic.
-- Cartoon : INVADER ZIMMMMMM.
-- Color : purple, black, green, silver
-- Slushy Flavor : Yuck. Too sweet. I like bitter things.
-- Magazine : Glossy pictures of fabricated people don't interest me.
-- TV Show : Farscape, Andromeda, Dr. Who, The Good Life, stuff on Discovery, and lots of cartoons.
-- Song : Wild, by Poe.
-- Language : English, you dunderhead.
-- Food & Beverage : Valerian, limeflower and passiflora tea to make the nightmares stop.
-- Subject in School : Potions. Duh.
-- Ice Cream Flavor : Vanilla. So I can add whatever I want to it.
--Roller Coaster : I .... hate... roller coasters.
[ series 3 - what is ]
-- Your most overused phrase on aol : brb
-- The first thing you thought of when you woke up this morning : Thank the goddess that was a dream...
-- The last image/thought you go to sleep with: I'd prefer not to say.
-- The first feature you notice in the opposite sex : eyes, hands, hair
-- The Best Name for a Butler : Fuckhead.
-- The wussiest sport : Badminton. I mean, come on. Just say the word "shuttlecock." Go ahead. Say it.
-- Your best feature : I have a really cute scar on my nose.
-- Your bedtime : Sporadic.
-- Your greatest fear : My past resurfacing, and swallowing me whole.
-- Your greatest accomplishment : Not killing myself.
-- Your most missed memory : Rick. When he could walk. And sing. And dance.
[ series 4 - you prefer ]
-- Pepsi or coke : Ginger beer?
-- McDonald's or Burger King : Yuck.
-- Single or group dates : Thank the gods dating isn't something I have to worry about anymore.
-- Adidas or nike : Leather. Boots.
-- Chicken nuggets or chicken fingers : I didnt know chickens had nuggets or fingers. Fascinating.
-- Dogs or cats : Elaborate, please.
-- Rugrats or doug : Never.
-- Single or taken : No one owns me. But for your information, I'm not available. Go bang your head against someone else's walls.
-- Monica or Brandy : Monica, in brandy, with a bit of tarragon and some asparagus tips...
-- Tupac or Jay-Z : Who?
-- Shania Twain or LeAnn Rhymes : LeAnn does not rhyme, and never the twain shall meat.
-- Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea : You've got to be kidding me. I only brew my own.
-- One pillow or two : I sleep on the floor of my padded cell.
-- Chocolate or vanilla : That all depends upon the grade of cocoa and the locality and climate in which the vanilla beans were grown, not to mention the intended use of the chemical constituents.
-- Hot chocolate or hot cocoa : Who cares?
-- Cappucino or coffee : Do you even know the difference?
-- Boxers or briefs : How about I box your ears briefly?
[ series 5 - do you ]
-- Take a shower everyday? : Do you have any idea how hard the water is in
England?
-- Have a(any) crush(es)? : Yes.
-- who are they? Fictional characters.
-- Do you think you've been in love? : I've learned to love without falling into it.
-- Want to go to college? : Been there, done that. It's a waste of time. I want to go to Hogwarts.
-- Like high school? : I hated it, but it loved me. The teachers, anyway.
-- Want to get married : I'm engaged, so I guess the answer is yes. Never thought I'd come to this... but I'm happy.
-- Type with your fingers on the right keys? : I don't use my pinkies.
-- Believe in yourself? : Again with the cryptic, ambiguous questions. What do you mean? Do I believe I exist? Yes. Do I believe I have the potential to do things? Yes. Do I believe I'm adorable and lovable and talented? No.
-- Have any tattoos/where? : Getting this on my right thigh.
-- Have any piercings/where? : Ears.
-- Get motion sickness? Only on things that sway and spin.
-- Think you're a health freak? : I think I'm an unhealthy freak.
-- Get along with your parents? : No. And it doesn't matter anymore.
--[ series 6 - the future ]--
-- Age you hope to be married : Considering my wedding is on Sept. 28, my current age. 24.
-- Numbers and Names of Children : First born will be Morgan, regardless of sex.
-- Where do you see yourself at age 20? : This survey is wasted on the youth.
-- Descibe your Dream Wedding : It's not going to be a wedding. It's going to be a Handfasting. I will be surrounded by freaks in costumes, there will be music and chanting and my husband and I will jump over a broomstick.
-- How do you want to die? : I don't.
-- What do you want to be when you grow up? : I grew up once. It was rather like vomiting.
-- What country would you most like to visit? : New Zealand.
[ series 7 - opposite sex ]
-- Best eye color? : ice blue, green, or black
-- Best hair color? : black or violent red.
-- Short or long hair? : Long, silky, thick, touchable.
-- Best height? : As long as the sex is good, who cares?
-- Best weight? : As long as the sex is good, who cares?
-- Best articles of clothing? : Black. Leather. Boots.
-- Best first date location? : Cemetary.
-- Best first kiss location? : Cemetary.
[ series 8 - other ]
-- When's the last time you slept with a stuffed animal? : Does my fiance count as a stuffed animal?
-- How many rings until you answer the phone? : It depends what I'm doing.
-- What's on your mouse pad? : I don't have a mouse pad. I have a laser mouse.
-- How many houses have you lived in? : Seven.
-- How many schools have you gone to? : Seven.
-- What color is your bedroom carpet? : Blue
-- Would you shave your head for $5000 dollars? : Only if I could convert the money to pounds.
-- If you were stranded on a desert island and you could only take three
things with you what would you take? : A knife, string, and a sex slave.
-- What was the best time of your life so far? : Meeting Blair, coming to England, starting a new life... this is the best my life has ever been. Right now.
current mood:  apathetic
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1:39 am - Meade. Moth. Flame. Muse.
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I offered the moth to the flame and the flame licked its wick and devoured the moth, wings-first. The moth twitched as it sank through the hot pool of wax into the next world. If I extinguish the flame now, will the moth still find its way? If I let it burn and burn and burn, will I become as the moth, captivated and obliterated by the warmth and light darkness craves?
I don't know, my little one. Why don't you keep burning, and find out?
But I am not on fire. I merely watch.
The fire dances in your eyes. A reflection is the other side of truth. You're just a little black lie, torn from its mother's womb and left to decompose.
If this is true, will truth consume me?
It all depends on if the moth believes the lie.
What wings are these? What wings to carry the burden of my starving eyes, casting only reflections of heat against the frigid whore Reality?
They're your wings. Go fly. Go now. You won't get a second chance, Ikkarus.
I can't see the sun, mother. I can't see my own reflection. Please show me where I must go.
I am the sun, child, and I will destroy you.
Without you, then, I will see my way. I'll create my own journey, and make stars in my mouth. There, among the reeds, she waits for me, with the little wax angel she calls by my name.
Go then, turn your back! Show me not your empty face. Devour yourself in your own fetid passion!
Goodbye, mother.
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12:54 am - What a dunderhead!!!
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I can't sleep, so I decide, gee, it's a great night to open that nice bottle of Silver Birch Wine I have. Well, the corkskrew mutilated the cork, and then I stupidly tried to pry the cork out with a knife. My Very Sharp Knife slipped and I sliced my finger. Lots of beautiful red blood all over my Nice! Clean! Kitchen! Counter!
I hate it when I'm a dunderhead.
I settled for spiced meade mixed with ginger tonic in Blair's black leather goblet.
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| Wednesday, August 14th, 2002
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2:59 pm - Up-to-date, sorta
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Yeah, it's been awhile since I've written. Stuff has happened, you know, I've been places and done things. The most significant event was my trip to Stonehenge about two weeks ago. Look! Pictures!
... Blair at the 'Henge.
...Blair and me at the 'Henge. Note that I am the one in the skirt.
... various typical Postcard-type photos of the 'Henge.
...Blair, with his usual expression.
Whee. So anyway, I've been depressed lately. It's a fairly good indication, when I don't write, that I've been depressed. In order to come out of a depression I need to write something cathartic. Except I haven't been able to think of what to write. My life is going great, it really is... the problem is my past cropping up to haunt me. I can't go to sleep without dreaming about being trapped and terrified, alone, with Blair nowhere to be found, indeed nowhere in my memory... the dreams are always as if I'd never left the States. Either they are "flashbacks" from the past, or bleak, hypothetical futures. I can deal with this stuff allright when they go away instantly when I wake... but when they come back while I'm conscious I sometimes lose control of my emotions.
This is going to sound funny, and I'm sure I'll look back on it someday and laugh. It wasn't funny last night though. Blair and I were having rather loud and delicious sex, and at the precise moment of his orgasm, which my body was poised to share with him, the bed collapsed beneath us. My foot slipped and I scraped my ankle hard on the frame of the bed, causing some minor scrapes and swelling. I instantly burst into tears. In my mind I was transported to a very painful moment from my past. It was an argument Brian and I had, shortly after moving to New York, just after his mother died. It had escalated to ridiculous proportions. I'd dug my fingers into his back out of frustration, and he'd turned around and hit me in the face, knocking my glasses off. I fell onto the bed. It was as if the sudden pain on the cusp of pleasure had torn open the old wound, and I'd started bleeding all over again. I couldn't move for awhile. I felt so stupid, sitting there on the collapsed mattress crying like a baby. Blair reassured me everything was allright, of course, and he held me for a long time, which was what I needed. I tried to explain to him that it was a "good cry", something I needed. He undestood.
I suppose there have been a lot of things building up lately that have lead to a partial emotional shut-down. I don't want to say "break-down" because I don't feel that bad... just exhausted.
First of all, my experience at Stonehenge was enlightening and beautiful, but it was not what I expected. The place felt... defiled, cheapened by the shoulder-to-shoulder throng of tourists plodding in a slow circle around the ancient stones. I felt a very strong something, can't really explain what it was, that made it seem my skull was made of metal and being pulled toward the earth by an underground magnet. I got over this after a few minutes on the site, but I was still disturbed by the number of people who seemed much more concerned with getting to the gift shop to pick up some bauble to make their friends jealous than actually experiencing the site. They're going to break ground soon for a new visitor's center, too. And though I'm very glad I got to see the monument, I was left feeling a little sick that the tourist trade was only going to get thicker. In retrospect, I don't know if I could ever go back there and contribute to it. The thing that made me the most angry was finding a crushed soda pop can on the path around the stones. Granted, I'm glad it was only one... still, the thoughtlessness and disrespect of that one person compelled me to show the gods I was different, that I actually gave a shit. I picked up the can and carried it with me until I found a place to throw it away.
I think the biggest factor contributing to my bouts of depression lately has been djusting to life in a new country. It hasn't been as easy as I thought it would be. It isn't even a matter of specifics... before, I talked about particular things I missed, et cetera... now I realize it's more a general feeling of being extremely far away from everything I've ever known. At the same time I'm dreading going back to the States in October. I am sure our Handfasting will be wonderful. I'm sure meeting Blair's family and friends will be a lot of fun. I'm looking forward to seeing Jon David and another friend, April, again- and hopefully a few more people if they can make it. What I'm afraid of is that I'll get too comfortable in the States again and it will be very hard to come back. I won't be around my mother's house, or anywhere that holds bad memories for me, otherwise I wouldn't be concerned.
The other problem I might have is simply being overwhelmed by the sheer number of people I'll be meeting in yet another unfamiliar place. Sometimes I don't do well in situations like that. A panic attack would not be a good thing to happen so close to my handfasting. I guess I just need to take a deep breath and go with it, trusting in the Powers that Be that everything will be okay.
*sigh* And now to address the issue I really didn't want to talk about. My emotional instability has also been exacerbated by the recent "fall" of Virtual Hogwarts. Once it was a community I felt comfortable in. I'd just begun to feel closer to the site admin, Jamie- she was even on my list to come to my Handfasting. But something just went terribly, terribly wrong and I was forced into the middle of an argument between her and another friend of mine from the site. I fought very hard to remain neutral, but when "AD" pulled down the site just to spite my other friend, I felt she'd gone too far. After all, she'd destroyed something I loved as well, punished me and everyone else who'd come to love VH, just because of an argument with a young lady that got blown way out of proportion. In the end, Jamie put the site back up, but I couldn't go back there. The entire thing left me feeling empty. Just before it happened, both our Hogwarts glasses broke in the sink, and I had this feeling of impending doom. I thought I was just being paranoid, and then that happened. I hate it when I'm right.
People sometimes wonder why I get so upset about this stuff. Even I used to think people were stupid to get so upset over things that happen online. Now, though, I've come to see things differently. It goes along with the importance of imagination to my spirituality. "Imaginary" characters, places, and things are capable of evoking strong emotional recactions from people. The emotions are real. The people having the emotiongs are real. VH was a community in which everyone was united by their imaginations and their love of creativity, and it was fueled by the love that grew between its members. (VH is just an example of this phenomenon. It happens a lot- I think it's what churches try to do.) Since for me, there is little or no separation between Imagination and the Divine, a loss of a "safe place" like this was a crisis for me. I've found comfort in the friends who still talk to me- from DW especially, she's been really great- but I can't help but feel an emptiness, and some guilt for not trying to do more to prevent this collapse from happening. Thank you DW, Daria, haknot, audley, candice and scholar, for continuing to humour my stupid conversations, and not abandoning me even though I've left VH forever.
*sighs, and takes a sip of raspberry tea*
I think that's enough of a catharsis for now.
current mood:  drained
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| Monday, August 5th, 2002
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1:36 pm - Clothes hung out to wet
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I think that darn cat was trying to tell me it was going to rain. But did I listen? Nooooo. I just petted the cat and kept on hanging out my clothes. And now there they are, hanging there getting wetter instead of dryer. The sun was shining when I hung them out, I swear! Oh well. Hope the cat found something dry to hide under. She's cute... reminds me of a cat back home. She's mostly white, with a striped tail and patches of colour here and there, just like Brunhilda was. She's got a really scratchy voice, and I can always tell it's her by her gritty little "Yeeow", so I call her Raspy. Short for Rasputina. Or maybe just Raspy.
Anyway... I'm going outside to pick up that saucer of rained-in milk.
current mood:  ditzy
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12:47 pm - Imagination, sanity, and a good cup of tea
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People have accused me, in the past, of being lost to fantasy, and thus unable to deal with the "real world" in the proper way. I find it interesting that the very people who've made these accusations have no imaginations themselves, and thus have no idea what they're missing. I think people have two pairs of eyes, one on the outside and one on the inside. Most people go through life with their inner eyes shut tight and half-sleep through a petty existence never even daring to believe there might be something more. They call it "escapism" and have labeled me mad for it. Yet always, I managed to contribute some small thing to society, go to school, work, maintain relationships- just like a "normal" person. My imagination never hurt anyone.
It was when I lost my imagination, lost my ability to immerse myself in my inner sanctum of beauty and magic, that I lost my mind. Where my winding worlds of romance and pixie dust used to be was a gaping void, threatening to suck me in. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, almost couldn't speak. I put on a good act, and I had a job, which I did well. And I made sure that no one knew I was going mad except for Jason... what a poor choice for a confidante, what a poor choice for a mate. It was then that he abandoned me.
But from that abandonment, I saw the opportunity to again revitalise myself. And I started reading "children's" books. Harry Potter. James and the Giant Peach. A Series of Unfortunate Events. And I got my imagination back. And then my dreams started to become reality. It seems all I had to do was allow myself to be a child again... or maybe, for the first time. I've come to understand that imagination is closely tied in with my spirituality. If I can't imagine anymore I'm spiritually unaware, dead to the world as I know it. And I've found someone just like that to share my life with, and it's wonderful.
It helps, also, that I'm in a country where I can finally get a good cup of tea...
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| Friday, August 2nd, 2002
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11:37 pm - Eye Candy Ambrosia
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There's a festival in the park near where I live.
At nightfall, the festivities began with a procession of school children carrying beautifully hand-made paper lanterns, in all sorts of shapes... fish and birds and kites and abstract designs... bright white and blue, each with a single candle inside...They made the round of the hot air balloon pitch banging drums, blowing whistles, ringing bells and tooting horns. It was wonderfully magical- sort of ancient and tomorrow all at once... like something out of a fantasy story. The procession was led by two enormous lanterns shaped like giants, one blue and one green. They swayed and bowed and leaned into the audience, delighting the children as they passed.
After the procession, a dozen hot air balloonists lifted their crafts. The power of the massive flames took me aback at first. As music began to play, the balloons lit up in sequence, like a giant lighted keyboard! Silver smoke filled the atmosphere, and a laser light show began. The lights danced and flashed and made the smoke seem alive, swirling and writhing bright greens and blues and reds. The beams bounced off the trees, colouring the leaves in raucous hues. And just when you thought it was over, fireworks began to fly into the air! The colours, the lights, the fire- well, it was eye candy ambrosia!
Blair bought me a sparklie.
We're going to Stonehenge tomorrow!
I love this town.
I love this country.
I love my life.
And for once, I'm not being sarcastic.
current mood:  giddy
current music: Wheeeeee!
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| Wednesday, July 31st, 2002
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1:30 pm - Happy Harry Potter's Birthday!
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It's Harry Potter's birthday. He's my age, by now. And I think he and I have a few more things in common than that. When you don't have much, like Harry and me, well, you appreciate things when they come along. More than other people, who've been able to take things for granted. But there are so many things that I am thankful for. Like... actually living in a place where I'm welcome, and won't have to leave suddenly... not having to play mind-games 24 hours a day with psychotic relatives... not having to work a horrid petty job in order to be able to buy ramen noodles to live off of... being able to get medicine I need without the red tape of my insurance company... um... shall I go on? Fresh air. Privacy without being isolated. Being able to go where I want when I want. Having a garden. Having a real bed to sleep on, instead of a beat up mattress on the floor. Not living in a Hispanic ghetto where I heard gunfire almost every night. Not having to hide the fact that I'm Pagan. Not having to hide at all. And not having to lie to myself and to others just so that I can still have a place to live. Finding true love... the most wonderful of all.
I'm so lucky. I could die happy right now. Not that I want to, but I could. My Inner Cynic scolds me, tells me not to get too comfortable. I'm glad he's there, you know, just as a precaution- but I don't listen to him as much as I used to.
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10:31 am
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Sweet smell of rain wafting in from the garden... scented with the purple blush of lavender. Taste of honey and chamomile in my mouth, soft light of a candle. It's a lovely, lovely morning to be home. The most beautiful thing is, the word "home" for me no longer has negative connotations.
current mood:  happy
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| Monday, July 29th, 2002
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8:30 am - Recooperation
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I only have to take the penicillin for two more days. Blair is going to be on his antibiotics for longer. At least it seems to be working for him now. I was really worried.
I'm really tired of the only e-mails I get in my inbox being from my mother.
I had some stupid dream last night about being in the choir again, at Lake Erie College, like I was when I was younger. I couldn't find my clothes for the concert, so I wore whatever I could find. I had long hair again. People told me I was beautiful. Then I woke up and I felt... not beautiful. I put a skirt on. It made me feel better.
I'm starting to miss some things about America. They aren't the things I thought I might miss. They're stupid little things, like stores and TV channels and fast food. There isn't any Taco Bell over here, dammit, and I've been craving a 7-layer burrito for weeks. British Cartoon Network sucks- I HATE Chud Chudders. I want the American announcer back and Cartoon Cartoon Fridays. And I miss my mall. Oh, how I miss my mall. Such a familiar happy place. Stupid, I know, but I was such a mall-bunny. I'll be glad when the big mall they're building downtown opens up. It looks a little bit more like what I'm used to. I even miss Wal-Mart. Is that sad or what? Wal-Mart. Of all places. Oh, and Best Buy! Best Buy rocked!
Sad thing is... there are really only one or two people I miss, my mother and grandparents not inclusive. As for other places, like parks and things- I don't really miss them as much as I thought I was going to. I haven't even been missing the field where I grew up, really. I feel I said a good farewell to it. I do miss my room. I hated that it was in my mother's house, and it was a much happier place when she wasn't around, but I wish I could have transported the room here somehow. I miss my dresser with my pretty trinkets, and my window with the big tree outside it (there aren't any big trees near my house now- it's a new development.)
I don't miss my mother's filthy, disgusting kitchen, her filthy, disgusting bathroom piled with self-help books and psychology magazines, her filthy, disgusting basement full of remnants of my father, and her filthy, disgusting attitude towards everything she doesn't understand.
I do wish we had a basement though.
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| Saturday, July 27th, 2002
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3:53 pm - Except for bunnies...
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3:27 pm - Personality type...
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I've taken a lot of these kinds of personality tests before. However, before, I feel I wasn't in an altogether stable place, and therefore impaired. It's hard to know one's self when one hasn't even got a home or any idea where their next meal is coming from. Today I'm feeling particularly stable, having died and gone to England, so I again took the Meyers-Briggs personality test. Here is my result.
What's YOUR Myers-Briggs personality type? Find out!
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I think it does make sense after all.
INTPs live rich worlds inside their minds, which are full of imagination and excitement. Consequently, they sometimes find the external world pales in comparison. This may result in a lack of motivation to form and maintain relationships. INTPs are not likely to have a very large circle of significant relationships in their lives. They're much more likely to have a few very close relationships, which they hold in great esteem and with great affection.
INTP Strengths
-They feel love and affection for those close to them which is almost childlike in its purity
-Generally laid-back and easy-going, willing to defer to their mates
-Approach things which interest them very enthusiastically
-Richly imaginative and creative
-Do not feel personally threatened by conflict or criticism
-Usually are not demanding, with simple daily needs
INTP Weaknesses
-Not naturally in tune with others' feelings; slow to respond to emotional needs
-Not naturally good at expressing their own feelings and emotions
-Tend to be suspicious and distrusting of others
-Not usually good at practical matters, such as money management, unless their work involves these concerns
-They have difficulty leaving bad relationships
-Tend to "blow off" conflict situations by ignoring them, or else they "blow up" in heated anger
Now, I do beg to differ on a couple of points. On a bad day I can be very seriously affected by criticism, as evidenced in entries earlier this week. And I think that I am indeed in tune with the emotions of others, even when I don't want to be. Or is this simply a part of my intuition? I think I'm pretty good at expressing my emotions. At least, I understand me. I write enough brooding poetry, don't I? Hm, I suppose I'm not a "Textbook" INTP, but then, who is a "Textbook" anything? I always said I defied stereotyping, and well, there you are again. I think I am comfortable with the assessment of "INTP". Yeah. I'll go with it. For now.
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| Friday, July 26th, 2002
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1:09 pm - Yeah, just what the doctor ordered.
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I hate doctors. I really do. I could tell right away this guy was looking down his nose at me from the very beginning because I'm A. American and B. Overweight. He took my height and weight. There was a lovely chart in front of the scale that had a curved graph made to determine if one was "underweight", "heathly", "fat," or "very fat." In red. Of course, I am consideredn "very fat." I'm in the red zone. So horribly, horribly fat that I will probably keep over tomorrow from cholesterol poisoning.
I don't mean to make assumptions about Dr. Wright. He's probably an okay chap. A little condescending, like all doctors. But this doesn't do anything to help my self-image. The following is the attitude I've gotten from doctors, relatives, and peers my whole life.
1. You're fat.
2. Being fat is one of the worst things anyone could possibly be.
3. Being fat is 100% your fault.
4. Your weight is the root of all of your emotional problems. If you just lost weight, you wouldn't need antidepressants.
5. Being fat is a disease and should be treated as such.
6. No one respects a fat person.
7. Fat people are lazy and don't care about their appearances.
8. The only way to redeem yourself is to change your entire lifestyle drastically, never to return to your "bad habits".
Do you get the picture? Yes, okay, I have issues with my weight. I'm not going to make any excuses for myself. But I'm so tired of ... me.
Fat, ugly me.
"Kill me, please!"
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9:29 am - Fat and ugly. Ugly and fat. They're the same thing.
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Some idiot saw a picture of me online yesterday, one I posted in a friends/dating service to try to meet people here in England, and e-mailed me "Good god in heaven u are ugly." I of course ignored him. And yet, somehow, it totally shattered my self-image for the day. I don't know why I'm like this. It's pathetic, really. I shouldn't let them win like that. I shouldn't care what some total stranger thinks of me. Still, the fact that a total stranger thought I was ugly enough to make a point of telling me- well it bothers me. Eats at me. Blair tells me I'm beautiful all the time... I don't think I'm beautiful, but I don't think I'm ugly... am I?
I'm fat. That's it. It's because I'm fat. If I wasw 70 pounds lighter I wouldn't be ugly anymore. Maybe I should try to lose weight. I know it's pointless because of my body chemistry, but I could try. I mean it's not like I just sit around eating all day, I do stuff. I'm active. Of course, Blair actually likes big women.
Man I sound like an idiot. I wish I could just like myself the way I am. My lack of self-esteem even spills over into my fantasies. I think, "there's no way Severus could ever be attracted to a fat girl. I might as well just stop fantasizing about him." Might as well just stop fantasizing at all.
Blair should be enough, shouldn't he? He adores me, he loves me for who and what I am. Why does it matter? Why does it matter to me so much that I live up to some ideal in my mind? I guess maybe it's because I really was beautiful when I was younger, and didn't know it... before I gained all the weight, and chopped off my hair. And now, I'm not anymore. Marginally pretty, perhaps. "A character", perhaps. "Cute" maybe. But definitely not beautiful. I will never be beautiful again and I just have to accept that.
current mood:  crushed
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