A Month of Letters Challenge

Post Crossing (where I swap postcards with people around the world) posted about the “Month of Letters Challenge” on their Facebook page today. And I love the idea behind it.

For the month of February, the challenge is to send one item (letter, postcard, etc) through the mail a day. And to respond to all the mail you receive in turn.

I just love the idea. I’ll probably do mostly postcards as they are quicker and easier (and cheaper) to send.

I’m already working on a list of people to send to. The challenge only requires 23 pieces of mail, because it doesn’t count days that the post office is closed (like Sundays and President’s Day). But I’m pushing myself to go ahead and write letters on those days as well. Just 28…it doesn’t sound too difficult.

Honestly? I’ve already written Feb 1st and Feb 2nd’s postcards and dropped them in our drop box for pick up on Monday. I’m positively giddy over this!

Any one here that would like a post card / letter from me, just leave me your physical address in a private note. :)

Beast at Heart

I truly am a beast at heart, at my core.
I relate more to the animal world than the human one.
And I find animals to be key pieces of metaphor to describe my life and what I’m going through.

Right now? I’m a god damn porcupine. All rolled up into a ball and bristling my quills to the world.

This week has been nothing short of one kick in the balls after another. And another. And ANOTHER. And if this week is any indicator of how tomorrow will it, it will certainly be brutal.

Monday, while we got GREAT news in that David got a $4k raise, sadly, that’s still $1k shy of what he was making at the same company, doing the same damn job, that he was doing last year. Except his work load has quadrupled. *sighs and shakes her head* That $4k would have taken care of most of the taxes to buy a house. Just saying.

Tuesday, found out my assistant manager at Starbucks, who friggin’ rocks and is super awesome and has a pug (which makes her even cooler in my book)....yeah, that was her last day at the store. She was transferred to another store by Corporate Head Quarters.

Wednesday.....what can I say. The day just royally sucked all around. My favorite coworker at Starbucks (Kelly) told me that she’ll only be working evenings from here on out. *pouts* Seriously, this is my all time, absolute favorite person to work with. And now, I don’t get to work with her anymore. I had to work with Beth for a bit (she’s the only that I’m pretty sure I’m going to get my first assault charge from…I seriously loathe this woman with every bone in my body). And then at the after school program? A non-program student flipped off three of my students, so I got to kick him off the playground plus talk to his mom. I had a student just haul off and punch another student square in the face for no god damn reason. And the students were needier and CRAZIER than usual.

Today? Thank god I didn’t have to work at Starbucks. The after school program was horrid again. Kids exposing themselves to each other, pooping in their pants, and kicking one another in the face full force. Yeah, totally friggin’ awesome ass day.

But the hilarious part?
I decided I DESERVED to eat an amazing hotdog from 5 Guys Burgers and Fries.
I texted my husband “I want 5 Guys tonight”....paused. Re-read what I just typed and decided I should add one key word....”Burgers” to that sentence before I sent that text.

Because sometimes, the word “burger” can change the way an entire desire gets played out.

As my husband pointed out, that one word can mean the difference between being full and being “stuffed”. * grins and winks *

Samurai

Doing better than I was a few days ago.
The sadness is still here. Hiding behind my eyes.
The impulse to cut is still there.

I realize now it’s a warped way of thinking that brings it on. Like the bulimic individuals that always see themselves as huge, no matter how little they weigh.

For me, the bare, unmarked skin on my lower arms just looks unnatural. Like it’s suppose to be marked up. It doesn’t have to be bloody, or scabbed over. I think even if it was just scars, I wouldn’t have the impulse to cut so badly.

Hell, I’m even thinking of putting a small tattoo on my wrist to see if that will curb these desires. Gotta love how this lil warped mind of mine is playing.

I came across this quote/question posed by SageGoddess on Facebook for the past new moon:
When you lose your Vision, can you trust your inner wisdom and surrender to faith?

And damn, does it intrigue me.

I’ve lost my Vision.
I’ve lost my Way.
I’ve lost my Path so many countless times.

And yet, I always come back, stronger and more determined. Like a damn pit bull, or a wolverine (seriously, those are the true bad-asses of the animal world).

And yet, that quote, while it intrigues me, I scoff so hard at it.

I don’t know when I became so jaded.
So disillusioned.
So hard.

I’ve been a victim so many times. No need to brandish the details there, like they are some badge of courage.

I certainly don’t hate myself over them (anymore). That took a long time to get past.

But now, I pride myself on being a survivor. A fighter.

For so long, I was taught to swallow my anger and my hate. To simmer in my impotency. And I’ve sworn that will never happen again.

And now, I feel I am Rage at my core. Anger flows through me and Hate is like oxygen. And any time anyone speaks of peace, of calm, of tranquility, oh how I shake my head. Or at best, I think to myself How nice. But it’s not meant for me.

I am not meant for a tranquil life.
I tell myself over and over that I am a Warrior.
I’m meant for blood and battle.
Hell, I cultivate sociopathic tendencies. I herald them as Strengths.

What the fuck am I even fighting for anymore?

My life is a good one. So why am I so loathe to lay down my blade?

Me thinks it’s time to look into the Samurai. They were mighty fierce warriors. And yet....they were so much more. They had peace. They embraced beauty and kindness and good deeds. All things I need more of in my life.

Seek To Know

I have always been the type of person that you never say “Don’t do this. It’s bad” and not give me a sound reason as to why.

If you told me not to do something, I’d just narrow my eyes and do it anyways.

And it’s not because I am a defiant person. It’s not because I like to challenge or rebel.

It’s because I seek to know. I seek to experience. I’m not satisfied with the “just because” reasoning. It just does not work for me.

My Mother should be nominated for Sainthood for enduring this all through my life. For not only enduring, but also for not seeking to stifle it either. I know I was a challenging child – even worse as a teen. And even now, I do not completely settle in anything. Always changing, always challenging, always evolving in new, unprecedented ways.

Tread (poem)

For I am a Child of the Serpent
The downtrodden
The misunderstood
The misrepresented

For I am a Child of the Fallen
the Dancer in the Abyss
the Singer in the Void
the Lover of the Dark

For I am a Child of the Moon
Lunar She Wolf am I
eyes glow red under starlight
and peer into the Truth

For all these things, I am feared

For that
I rejoice

This is not the Path
Nor the Way
for the Masses
the Herds
the Flocks of Prey creatures

Only the strong
of heart
of body
of soul
of mind
Dare the Twisting Path

For it only leads
deeper
into wisdom
self knowledge
self preservation
self regulation

Not a path for Hooves

Paws and claws
tread here

==============
Been a while since I’ve written any poetry. I do believe I’m a bit rusty. But then again, I’ve always preferred the stream of consciousness form of writing than something well polished.

For me, the overly polished lacks life. Don’t get me wrong, Shakespeare wrote some beautiful words. They just sound so very flat and domestic in my mouth. Too much structure. It’s like comparing a fucking pekingese to an Arctic Wolf. Oh they are related. There are similarities there. But they are nothing alike in spirit.

I need to get back into my spontaneous poetry. When it really gets to flowing, it’s like the words are being whispered in my head. I’m merely releasing them into the world. Hell, I may not even know for sure what it all means at the time! *laughs* Gotta love those divinely inspired words and phrases. I could certainly imagine myself as one of the old Pythias of ancient Greece....Oracle Speaker at Delphi.

And don’t for a second, think that the Serpent ties of the Pythia is lost on me. Oh no. I am very much cognizant of that Sacred Serpent Path.

I miss the old surety of the gods and having them speak directly to you. Maybe they are less thunderous because I no longer require the theatrics to pay attention. Seeing as how I’m more in-tune with them, they can nudge and whisper and suggest instead of having to boom in my ear and bitch slap me upside my oh-so-thick skull. *laughs* I’m sure they are happy it’s no longer an all out war to get my attention and to get their point across.

Though, at times, I do miss the battle. *chuckles* Sometimes.

Maybe You Should Rethink That....

So last week, there was some serious craziness going on with the Starbucks schedule. Turns out, Darrell (manager) was letting Lauren (assistant manager in training) do the scheduling.

Except he’s a total douche, and didn’t give her access to our availability forms nor the Time Off Request Binder.

I swear he does that shit, just to prove why he’s top dog. He set Lauren up for dismal failure, so he could swoop in and save the day. * rolls her eyes * What a douche.

So, Schedule #1 had me working Sunday, which I had requested off back in December, as that weekend is when my family was able to get together to do Christmas. But I had Wednesday off.

Schedule #2 was the same.

Schedule #3 had me off on Sunday and off on Wednesday. This schedule was up on Tuesday. I checked it when I left my shift at 11 am on Tuesday.

But apparently there was ANOTHER schedule change, and I was on the schedule to work 5 am to 11 am (my availability is only 7 am to 11 am). But no one bothered to tell me.

So yeah, I didn’t go to the shift I didn’t friggin’ know about. Darrell called at 5:05 am, but didn’t leave a voice mail. Then he called at 7:05 am and left a voice mail asking when I would be in. Then he called at 11:45 am and snarled into the phone that I needed to call him at the store RIGHT NOW.

Um, no. He was obviously pissed off. I’m not going to call him when I already know he’s in a temper tantrum mood. Fuck that noise. I figured I’d just wait until we ran into each other and he had a few days to simmer down.

So he pulled me into the back today to talk about what happened. I told him I had no idea that I was working that day and that I had made prior plans and didn’t get the voice mails until I was already at my after school job.

He told me he was worried I had walked out Tuesday and decided not to come back to work.

And I so badly wanted to pop off, “If that’s the first thought you jump to, because so many of your employees quit that way....maybe you should look into WHY they quit that way. Maybe you should rethink how you treat your employees.” * rolls her eyes *

Part of me wants to quit so badly.
But the other part, is gearing up. One of these days, I’m doing to say fuck it and just unload.

When I quit, he’ll KNOW all the reasons why. There won’t be any of this, “Oh I have no idea why she quit” bull shit that he pulls after everyone leaves.

And EVERYONE leaves.

Snippet

Just a snippet my response to John from the Journaling Group that ended up being very well written.  *laughs* I surprise myself sometimes!

Discussion of Passions and John said that his passions may seem simple.

My response:
John,
It’s the simple things in life that seem to bring us the greatest joy. And I think that’s something that our society has really gotten away from. I know that I feel like I’m always pushed to do bigger and greater and more complex things. That I’m not supposed to be content unless I’m living in the Mansion, doing a Great Important Job, making an Asston of Money, and driving the Expensive Car.
And yet....I don’t really want any of that. Ok, so the Asston of Money would be nice, so I could have house in the WOODS with my mini-zoo of animals. *chuckles*

Bottom line, if it makes YOU happy, then by all means, DO IT and LOVE every second of it! *smiles*

MoonChild

I am very much a creature of Cycles.
Of the flow and ebb of life.
The pull of the Moon on Waters that run very deep in my core.

I’ve made it a point to be more active in the journaling group I’m a co-moderator of. For a very long, long, LOOOOOONG time, this group had a very strong core of people that I could rely on for anything....regardless that I’d never actually met a single one of them in person.

God, the shit they saw me endure. The shit they encouraged me to endure. The history we all have.
They were there when I first started dating my psycho-ex in 2001. They saw me through the very bitter end....and then the crazy, stupid, long-drawn-out hanging-on I did for a year after that relationship terminated officially. They endured with me through my years of cutting and are celebrating each year I’ve been Self-Inflicted Injury free (8 years and counting now). They have ridden the Bipolar waves with me.....soaring manias and crushing depressions.

And, slowly…over the most recent years....we’ve been fading from the group. Not sharing as much, not talking as much, not delving as deeply as we had been. I know I started pulling back once I joined the Facebook horde. It was just easier to share tiny snippets of my life, moment to moment, and read what the others were reading. It was easier to simply gloss over life and say “Eh, good enough.”

If Facebook and journaling were eating habits:
Facebook is junk food. And I’ve been binging on stale chips for years now.
Journaling is soul food, that mom’s-special-meal that, when you eat it, wraps you in a loving embrace from the inside out.

And I need more MEALS and less binging.

So I’ve made it a point to do more in the journaling group. I’m not pushing the others to join it. I’m simply sharing more, and responding more to what they share. And it’s bringing them all back ‘round.

And I can’t even begin to articulate how much this warms my soul. These people, most I’ve never met, mean so incredibly much to me. We come from all walks of life, all age ranges (though, I’m pretty much the “baby” of the group), and from all over the world. And it’s our love of journaling, and our willingness to be vulnerable with each other that brings us together and bonds us.

Life is not linear....from what I see. It’s not a straight shot from Point A to Point Z with the whole alphabet laid out neatly, in order, in a row.

For me, life is a spiral…a wandering, meandering river.
Sometimes, it slows to a small creek, trickling through the woods.
Sometimes, it is a raging rapids, churning up the world, smoothing down rocks, and changing the face of the land it cuts through.
Sometimes, it is a glorious waterfall. One moment you are cruising along, and the next, you are airborne and flying and enjoying the moment.

And then it returns to the little creek.

So ebb and flow, meandering around this world.
Seems to be a great way to live.

Badge of Pride

So Mary and John (two dear-to-my-heart online journaling buddies that I’ve known for ages) have been trying to get me on the Fountain Pen bandwagon.

Mary, being the super awesome Fountain Pen enabler (she got John hooked), offered to send me some that she didn’t like. She prefers needle-point thin ink lines, whereas I lean more to a good line. Not too thick, not to thin. *grins and winks*

Forgive me. Full Moon is riding high last night and tonight. Full WOLF Moon, none-the-less. And I’m listening to Animals by Maroon 5. Never fails to really get that beast inside pumping. Just want to go run in the woods (but not nekkid…it’s freaking FREEZING out there right now. And while I may be crazy, I’m not bat-shit crazy like the homeless lady, so no parading around with no pants for me, thank-you-very-much!)

Wow. That original train of though totally derailed.

ANYWAYS. Back to the damn pens. I get this package today:

I was positively giddy. I almost called in to work so I could stay home and play. *laughs* No worries. I was a good supervisor and went to work.

But once home. Oh hell yeah, it was game on. I loaded up the Hero 6116 (the dark green pen) with Noodler’s Blue Black ink. And then promptly knocked the vial over. DOH! Damn art table wasn’t as flat/level as I thought it was. I’ll have to get David to make me a wooden stand for my ink vials that will keep them safe from tipping over. But until then, I’m just going to have to be crazy careful, which is crazy in-and-of-itself, seeing as how that table breeds fun times. But at least the blue/black ink stain just meshes in well with the other ink and paint stains already there. I should have just left it for a bit longer before trying to clean it up, so it would have stained darker. *shrugs* I’m sure if I come across samples that I don’t like, I could paint/splatter them on my table for a good effect and to use them. Apparently there’s a company called Goulet Pens that sell sample vials for less than $2. So I’ll certainly be scoping those out. I foresee some reds and purples and maybe some grays in my near future.

So yeah, I’ve got some blue stains on my fingers. I used a pumice stone to get as much off as I can.

But I kind of like it.

I feel like strutting around, flashing my colors, and saying, “Hell yeah, bitches. I use REAL pens!” *dies laughing*

Um, yeah, totally blaming that on the Full Moon.
And Mary. But totally grateful for Mary.

Must look into other inks.

I did load the 2nd pen, a Hero 338 (the silver pen) with Noodler’s Bad Green Gator without spilling any. Woot!

As of right now, I like the 6116 better. It glides better over the page and doesn’t have the faint scratchy noise of the 338.

And they totally make me want to go buy some nice, expensive journal, with thick, creamy off-white pages.

Psychos and Not-So-Psychos

My Facebook post from Dec 29th:

long discussion spurred on by Criminal Minds, classic stalker behavior in males, and this push by Starbucks to “create moments” with our customers (which feeds classic stalkers) led me to a realization just how little a certain Psycho Ex cared for me as a person....and how much of a possession he really believed me to be, even years after we split.

And it just boggles my mind that so many people still sing his praises and drink the koolaide....even after they know some of the horrid stuff he’s done in the past. Shit he’s even bragged about.

I don’t get it.
Do these people just ignore that stuff because they can’t stomach the thought of being friends with a monster?

And no, I’m not saying any names, will not hint at any names, because, like I said, number of people, whom I adore, are still very good friends with him. And I don’t wish to start any fights with them.
But the biggest reason? I don’t want it getting back to him, because it doesn’t matter what I say....in the end, all he’ll see is that I was talking about him, and CLEARLY this means I was thinking of him, and even more CLEARLY (at least in his mind), this means I want him back NOW.

Clearly, I’m talking about Ken. He was a horridly mentally and emotionally abusive, and highly controlling guy that I was naive enough to date for almost three years. But the shit I’ve heard he’s done since he broke up with me? Makes my time with him look like freaking child’s play. I feel so sorry for the women he’s conned in that time and the cruelty he’s inflicted upon them.

But a nice thing about that post, was another ex, Keith, reached out to me. We dated briefly, but have known each other for ages. And god, do we flirt. Much akin to the flirting between Derick Morgan and Penelope Garcia. But we did date, and it ended horribly. And for the longest, we flat out did not speak. Luckily, we’ve gotten past that, and are back to our flirty ways.

Anyways, he jokingly asked why I was hating on him on Facebook. We bantered back and forth and then he got all serious on me and apologized for the way things went down between us. It was really nice and something I really needed to hear. It completely buries any hatchet between us.

So yes, I have a psycho-ex, that I still keep tabs on. Currently, he isn’t even in the state, but you never know when he gets a wild hair up his ass and decides to come back. I’m not afraid that he’d actually do something physical. But I just don’t need the psychological crap of him just randomly showing up on my doorstep or at my job.

But it also reminded me that not all the guys I dated were/are psychotic and that I’m really lucky to have some really great friends.

And us, being us, the conversation then devolved into him threatening to send me photos of his hairy balls at 2 am the next time he was drunk. And me threatening to put the homeless lady from my woods in his backyard. :) Wouldn’t have it any other way.

Setting the Stage

Well it’s 2015 – the year of the Blissful SheWolf. *grins*

My word for this year is Bliss.

Last year was Engage and I feel I did a fairly good job of that – of engaging with my life once again. And now that I’m engaged with it once more, it’s time to step up my game. So now I’m focusing on Bliss – do the things that make my Soul happy.

• more photography
• more journaling
• more zoos
• more travel
• and the big goal? A return trip to Wolf Park (and possibly Wolf Creek Habitat while I’m up there)

And I’m returning to my core with this year’s totem choice. Typically, I wait for a totem to appear in my life, but this year I’m taking the reins. I’m calling Wolf back and will reconnect with her.

I feel the big need to reconnect with myself this year.

Last year’s totem duo of Hawk and Vulture certainly did a number on me. I certainly gained New Vision and Perspective (via Hawk) and certainly Purged and Purified everything else (via Vulture), so now it’s time to bring all of that home and fully integrate it (via Wolf).

2014 was certainly a year of self-realization and development.
And I hope 2015 is an awesomely impressive year of manifestation and clarity.

Onwards and upwards!