random.

The dwarves have dug too deep in my shins, and released an ancient evil. Seriously. >_<

The Cailleach isn’t letting us go. Whispers in my head in January said ‘You’ll make up for each day it thaws’…and holy hell, we’re paying them back. I’m sure the weather is why the dwarves are mining in my bones.

Still taking Asks for synethestic purposes. (See here.) They entertain me. For example, the word arthritis is the same colour as an old bruise - bilious yellow and purple. It throbs. :<

random.

  • The days are getting longer. It’s a small thing, but I always try to be observant and appreciative when there’s still sun at 5:30 in the afternoon.
  • More crows. Glad to hear them around again.
  • Hoping for spring, but still thoroughly enjoying winter. Usually by now I’m weary of it, but I have a couple warm years to make up for, I guess.
  • Make cookies for myself! Cherry-hazelnut-toffee icebox cookies. <3 I hardly ever bake for myself. Surprised I did, but pleased.
  • Ovaltine makes my days better.
  • I’m braiding again. My goddaughter loves the braided bracelets so I’m making her a bunch for her birthday - that way she can share them with friends if she likes.
  • Have to remember to get some eggs and dyes and things to decorate with for Ostara with goddaughter.
  • I actually found Bachelor’s button seeds here, for the first time in 4 years.. Is happymaking.
  • Why on earth do I have to my Spring shopping in bloody February and early March, if I hope to have things to plant in April or early May? Is crazymaking.
  • Work progresses on the Terrible Trio. One is albino, another leucistic grey, and the third is black. Not sure if I’m going to make them colourful or mostly monochrome with one colour.

That’s about it - at least that I can remember.

A few random shots from around the house.

The rock’s name is Ed. Ed was my doorstop for many years, until he wanted to go back outside. He used to live in the casino parking lot, across the lake.

The red maple across the street turned a colour I’ve never seen before. It was a lovely late burst of colour, before last night’s relentless rain stripped it bare.

Leanan loves that pillow. He settles down on it at least once a day, and looks smug, noble, and inscrutable. But he has a frustrating habit of making a clear shot of his unmoving face impossible. This was as close as I got.

burn notice.

For every follower I gain these days, I appear to lose two. (Not that I think Tumblr keeps track well, sometimes.)

Which leads me to the following statement:

If for some reason I unfollow you, it isn’t that I dislike you. Usually the reason is simply that I can’t track a lot of information at once. I try to keep my dashboard pretty clean, so if you post those long endless reblog conversations, constantly reblog your friends, or just post too often, I’m likely to drop you. I do still read those blogs - but I read them at their own pages.

I keep obsessively neat spaces if I can help it. Tumblr is one of them. You’re all victims of my broken brain. I’d be more sorry, but this is one of the ways I keep myself functional.

Which isn’t to say I won’t drop people for other reasons. If you display dishonesty, racism, entitlement, and willful ignorance on your Tumblr, I will drop you like a hot potato -no matter how much I have enjoyed your previous posts. (Especially if you’re using a religion you don’t actually follow as a fucking fashion statement.)

An adjunct to the above is this:

I don’t give a shit if you choose to follow me, either. It’s just not a priority for me.  I have no interest in being part of anyone’s clique online, I don’t care if I’m popular, and I really loathe the idea of other people living vicariously through my internet presence.

So, in addition to not feeling bad if I drop you, please don’t feel guilty if you don’t feel the urge to reciprocate if I follow you. I assure you I don’t mind.

random.

Meaningless confessions:

1) I don’t like steampunk. There, I said it. Doesn’t do a damn thing for me. I understand the components of the thing, but I see no aesthetic in taking something that was lovely or functionally Victorian in its’ own right, and sticking a bunch of brass stampings and gears all over it.  Or taking something mechanical that was perfectly fine on its’ own and trying to make it look like it belongs in a tea parlour or an Egyptian tomb. Bleck.

2) I loathe Regretsy. Don’t get me wrong - I am full of more than my fair share of schadenfreude, and I am not really a very nice person. But I also go out of my way to avoid stirring up too much shit, and I like Wil Wheaton’s “Don’t Be a Dick” rule as a rule for living. Yeah, so some people make some whacked out stuff. You don’t like it, don’t look, and don’t buy it.

So there’s that.

Not having great days, lately. Adding some postal fail to that this morning isn’t helping. :\ I’m not here much…wherever here is.

dark of the moon.

I have so many new shiny things coming in the mail soon. The only thing about shopping online: the waiting’s the hardest part. I am not known for my patience. Keep an eye out for new labradorite in the future - the last few pieces I made sold in less than a week. If you like it, buy it ASAP - otherwise you’ll miss it.

Worth mentioning: I also take commissions for custom pieces, and I’m happy to work within a fixed budget if that’s a concern.

Last night of the dark moon tonight. I dedicate this night to one of my patron goddess, and spend some time with her shrine, communing and sometimes meditating. So imma do that later.

Random photos, March 2012:

1) Danu shrine.

2) Manannan’s candle, with holey stone charm.

3) Shiny object fixation.

4) Leanan, looking somewhat malevolent.

bits and pieces.

I’m not very together. Today you get random bits and pieces.

- I apparently intimidate the hell out of people. I come off about a thousand times more blunt and harsh online than I do offline. I guess I don’t come off well personality-wise from the way I write; many people don’t catch the tone I’m going for. As well, my sense of humour proves to be equally as elusive.

- I’m very much a person who likes the little things. Details make me happy. I am not unaware of the big picture, but I’m much more interested in what’s in the doodles in the margins. For me, the macrocosm is reflected in the microcosm - every little bit of it.

- I love good ritual. Ritual for me is ‘theater for the Gods’. It is a spectacle and a show of respect, love, and joy we perform for their pleasure. Rituals are large and small, formal and informal. And I can totally understand why some people have difficulty with ritual - if you’re not into dramatics in that way, it’s hard.

- I don’t connect well with ‘pretty’ witchcraft. All those pictures of witches standing in romantic trailing sleeves in candlelight with their shiny gewgaws are impossible for me to relate to. They’re fantasy. And I’m not given to letting fantasy rule me or my desires.

I am stubbornly practical. I don’t object to beauty, but it can’t just be for show. I’m all about function and form. I don’t care if it looks like hell as long as it works well. Long trailing sleeves? Look great, but I’m gonna light them on fire working at the altar. Fancy leather-bound books? They’re no use to me if I’d be upset to use them - they are bound to get wine and wax on them as I work. Athame? Absolutely useless if the handle’s shape is uncomfortable in my hand, impractical to hold for a length of time, or if the blade’s dull because it’s a display piece.

And while I love ritual, I’m also not the type to stand on ceremony if there’s no need for it. ‘Keep It Simple, Stupid’ works wonders.

- I like to create my own tools. That way they’re exactly what I want and need, and they’re unique. Witchcraft, for me, is heavy on the ‘craft’ part - making sacred, powerful objects is one of my greatest joys.

On the same tangent, witchcraft for me is all about getting dirty. I’m hands on, and I’m not squeamish. If you’re afraid of hair, piss, sweat, bone, blood, tears, and dirt, I don’t think witchcraft is for you. Nature is not clean, polite, or prissy, and humans are still animals. We’re not above anything.

- I prefer to listen and to observe, than to talk. I’m very much content to sit in the background and learn about people in silence, than to try to talk about anything. I wait until I feel comfortable before I join in. Sometimes that never happens.

- I prefer to be alone. When I’m alone, my anxiety is less crushing. I don’t spend every moment wondering if I should say anything, fearing what I do say, and then obsessively worrying that I’ve made an ass out of myself for talking at all. I absolutely loathe and dread small talk, and being in groups of people larger than four, including me.