I'm back now, but I'm also playing some grinding games (samurai won't level itself) so I'm very busy. It's difficult being me :(
So what's today's blog about?
Heretics.
Yesterday, Renee and I celebrated the Autumn Equinox together. Admittedly, it could have gone a little better but we had both spaced on the date dealing with too much stress both from online and offline stuff, realizing only a few days in advance that the ritual date was actually here.
>stress
>online
:3
There was some brief talk about skipping it, but we decided that we couldn't pass this up for two reasons: one it was a festival of Hermes that happened to be falling on this day and there was something he had asked me to do that the energies of the day would be perfect for,
Wow Hermes tells me to do something and my response would have to be "broheim, you know I'm going to be turning into some kind of donkey or ox after this, so how about we skip it and cut to the horrific death?"
We honored our various gods, honored Dionysos as I've been feeling a need to spend some time with him lately,
k
You do know these gods don't really exist but are personifications of abstract principles, don't you?
I was going to end with a picture of a necklace I made for Dioysos yesterday, but the picture didn't come out too wonderful and so we're waiting for day light to try again. But pictures are forthcoming. :-)
Can wonderful act as an adverbial phrase? Well, whatever. After encountering the cunty followers of the Greek pantheon, I've decided they are so last Wednesday.
Mithraism is in now. Praise be to Mithras, etc.
It is apparently Invisible Illness Awareness week, and a lot of people on my friend's list have been posting about their own various struggles with such. I wasn't sure if I should participate or not, but I've been encouraged, and so here it is.
Let's analyze this. If you have an illness that's invisible is it really an illness?
By "invisible" I'm going to assume "without symptoms" because if we're just talking about illnesses that have no outward appearance then we could be talking about nearly any affliction and this entire week is silly.
Wow this is a long post. I'll quote some of it here, but you can probably skip it and cut to my summary:
The big reason why I was going to bow out was because I have no official diagnosis on any of my problems. There are of course good reasons for this. For those of you who haven't been around long enough to hear the story in detail, or have seen me hint about it but wasn't sure what I was talking about, I was abused by the mental health system and the department of social services when I was a teenager (on top of the abuse I already experienced from my parents and the school system, only ten thousand times worse). Mentally and physically abused - yes I mean physical violence and yes I mean from staff members not other patients (although that too, which always went ignored) as well as being forced to take drugs I didn't need for years (yes forced, I was threatened with violence every time I hinted I might not take it on my own).
Sure, I believe you.
So, what are my invisible illnesses? Severe anxiety, depression (not so much anymore, but not so long ago it isn't worth mentioning) and a sleep disorder, this one in particular I believe - yes I know a rare disorder I by rights should not have, and yet after ten years of it I know exactly what my symptoms are and this is the only one I have ever found that describes what is wrong with me.
Ok I've done a lot of research (on Wikipedia) and I think I found your problem. I will link it here for convenience. Now here's an entry entitled "Internet Drama" which is not only the dumbest kind of drama, but also the best kind.
Wow I am disappointed. It's dumb but also boring as fuck. OH NO THE PAGAN FORUM I BELONG TO IS MEAN TO ME! :( wow don't give a fuck and I'm not skimming 10000 posts to figure it out, either.
I am sick to fucking death of summer, of humidity, of having to keep a fucking air conditioner running at all times. Sick of having my energy drained by the heat. Sick of the dry air in the bedroom, I literally can't take that anymore.
Dry air, humidity, dry air, humidity-- okay.
If truly Hermes loves me as much as he claims, I will not have to do this again for several years. Gods I hate shopping for shoes so fucking much, I swear it just gets worse and worse each time.
UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH.
I also try to avoid going to places that force me to interact with the sales people, having run into a couple of oh so helpful ones in the past. Not the last time I had to buy shoes but the one before that, I asked the moron for a nine and a half and she was just convinced my feet could not be that big. So she gets her little foot measure thing, and oh look, says here you're a seven, I'll just go and get you a seven then (I was sixteen so I guess she thought she could talk down at me like that). And does it fit? No, of course not, much to her empty headed bafflement.
k
Amazingly, this story continues. I've never seen such butthurt over menial chores.
So I say, you going to get me that nine and a half now? Well, she does, and those fit, and again she is bewildered, but that thing said you were a seven I just don't understand!!! Yeah, like I don't know how big my fucking feet are, like I've never had to shop for shoes before, like I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about. (those were some good shoes I bought there, lasted me almost ten years they did)
THIS HAPPENED TEN YEARS AGO? I'm all for bearing a grudge but Jesus Christ, there's a point where it becomes ridiculous and you crossed it.
Unfortunately most of the shoe places I can think of in the immediate area cater only to women that want to pay way too much for something that will wreck their feet later in life but oh it looks so good (I guess, if you're blind) and that's all that really matters, right???
Yes. Yes it is. I feel like I'm quoting really long blocks of text in her blog but I almost have to. Her blog is like an asbestos fire. It just goes on and on forever until it (finally) reaches its point.
Oh my fucking Christ there's a Nine (NINE) paragraph ESSAY about her fucking neurotic cat and her mother visiting and how she was surprised the cat was actually okay HOLY FUCK ME.
Oh. My. Gods. *is dead*
No fuck you. Entry over. Holy shit.
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