Beltane reflections

Last year at Beltane I was feeling a bit lost and most lonely. Things with Brisket had just fizzled out and I was left contemplating why. I have a habit of turning things around on myself and it wasn't because he was emotionally immature or using me (both things which are very true), rather it was because I am wretched, fat, dorky, and not worth his time.

Going into Beltane I was trying to change that perception of myself – repeating mantras that I may be flawed, but I am also beautiful, like a Persian rug with a mislaid thread. Telling myself that I am kind, clever, giving and fun, having much to offer in friendship and love. For whatever reason, the nice things are harder to believe about yourself, especially when you've just been spectacularly rebuffed by a 28-year old knob who lives in his mother's basement and works at a movie theater. Still, I practiced saying these things to myself, over and over.

When I arrived at Beltane, I sat for awhile in a corner, weaving myself a crown of flowers and repeating my mantras. And then he walked in.

I noticed him immediately and as cliché as it sounds, my heart palpitated a bit. I had never seen him at an Open before. He was dressed in all black, with a simple pentacle hanging around his neck. He looked muscular and fit, and he had deep dimples when he smiled. I was smitten.

Trouble was, I had no idea who he was and I was seriously lacking confidence to just go over and talk to some stunningly hot guy who randomly shows up to Sabbats. And yet, a little voice in my head argued with me, remember your mantras. Remember that you are worth his time and consideration. So I compromised. I would flirt with him from afar and make him come talk to me.

All through the ritual I gave him come-hither eyes. As we danced around the maypole, I would smile and wink at him when we came face to face while weaving our ribbons. When the drumming and dancing began, I made sure to wiggle my hips a bit more when I was near him. During the feasting I sat close-ish to him and hoped that he would overhear parts of my group's conversations and join in.

It didn't work. Even though we locked eyes several times and even though he always returned my smiles, he never spoke to me. I left Beltane feeling rejected again. I tried to comfort myself, acknowledging that I knew nothing about this person – he could be married, or have a non-pagan girlfriend, or be gay, or turn out to be a jerk. It was cold comfort, to say the least, and if you read my entry from last year, you can sort of tell how sad I was feeling.

I'm not going to draw the suspense out any longer: That hot guy turned out to be the Scotsman. I didn't see him again for another 5 months. In the interim, I learned that he had "asked" about me, but that he was going through a divorce -- making him off limits in my book. I promised myself I wouldn't flirt with him because he was emotionally scarred and probably not ready for a relationship. I would be nothing more than a rebound girl. I would behave and be only a friend to him. But when we met for the second time, it was like we were magnets. We couldn't keep away from each other.

I just woke up in his arms this morning, and I couldn't be happier.

===

This year the Scotsman and I were asked to be the May King and Queen for Beltane. I was ecstatic, to say the least. But the Scotsman was unsure – his personal coven had their Beltane the same day. "We can do both," I told him. "We can fit both in, the times don't overlap that much." I encouraged him to tell his high priestess that he had been asked to do this, sure that she would be pleased and proud and insist that he be the May King. His coven is so tiny (only 4 people) and they never start on time. If he just asked, maybe they would push their Beltane back an hour.

But the Scotsman was unsure and wanted to be loyal to his coven. As someone who is well-versed at scheduling lots of things into her life, this was frustrating to me. I so wanted to do this with him – it felt like a perfect circle to last year's Beltane.

But I held my tongue. I let him decide where he wanted to be for Beltane and make the call. We declined to be May King and Queen. And he planned on being with his coven and I planned on being with both the IP and his coven. I swallowed my disappointment.

Then yesterday, two hours before the IP Beltane began, the Scotsman called me and asked if he could come with me. I was simultaneously thrilled and frustrated. See, I thought. We will have time to do both.

Since we declined on being May King and Queen, the IP hadn't found another couple to take on the roles. So the May King and Queen would be decided by fate. During the ritual the single ladies lined up and drew stones from a pouch.

I drew the odd-colored stone.

Some things are meant to be. I obviously chose the Scotsman as my May King (how could I not?) and led him on a merry chase for my crown.

Happy Beltane, everyone.

Super Excited

Things are happening and I like it:

• UBER SEKRET THINGS, that I don't want to jinx. Keep your fingers crossed.
  
  
• One word: BELTANE.
  
  
• Come Sunday it looks like Brian and I are headed to the Fairy Festival in Glenn Rock.
  
  
• You know who else will be there? Tree, Lilly, Dave, Justina, and Amy.
  
  
• PAGAN GOODTIMES, FTW!?
  
  
• Irish dance classes start Monday!
  
  
• Oh, then there's THIS, which, now that I figured out SQL and a bit of PHP, I am having a blast making. Looking to launch in a week!

That's it, really. Love you guys.

Shed it

I didn't really get to celebrate Samhain this year the way I wanted to. In May when I finished graduate school I eagerly looked forward to an open fall season -- one without classes and papers clogging up my life. One where I could be relaxed, social and creative. But the Universe had other ideas for me. I would be social and creative, sure, but "relaxed" never entered my lexicon. Instead, Wedding Palooza '09. Suddenly I was dashing about, camera glued to my face, pockets full of media cards and film.

The Luke and Leslie's wedding occurred on Samhain itself, preventing me from attending both my normal open Samhain ritual as well as an impromptu ritual hosted by friends. Towards the end of the day, exhausted but happy, I was slouched at the end of the table, looking through the photos other people had taken when I came across one someone took of me at the reception. I was looking harried, my mouth half open, most likely directing people where to stand for portraits and my hair was plastered haphazardly across my forehead from when I had come inside from the rain. I felt it was truly an unflattering picture, and I asked the owner of the camera to delete it, lest it appear on Facebook in a few days. It was at this point Renee got up in my face. "You're always doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Saying you look terrible in photos when you don't."

"But--"

"NO. SHUT UP. You are constantly doing this. You always putting yourself down, saying you look bad. Or worse, hiding behind the camera so we can't take your picture at all. I'm sick of it. You look fine, you look better than fine."

"But I'm all wet and my--"

"It was raining, all of us were wet. You know what you look like in that picture? You look like a photographer doing her job. So shut it. I don't want to hear any more. I'm sick to my back teeth of hearing you hate yourself."

I couldn't really argue with her anymore, both because she now lives in Chicago and can kick my ass and also because she's right. It's a problem I've struggled with for a long, long time. If you've read this blog at all, you're familiar and sick of this problem too.

The week before Samhain The Swell Season released their new album, Strict Joy, and I splashed out for the deluxe version, which contains a bunch of live tracks. Glen Hansgard tells this story about a medium who helped two spirits cross over after wandering in the dark for hundreds of years because they had been told they were evil, when in fact they were just wrongly killed for having physical disabilities back in the Dark Ages. You can hear a version of the story here. Right before launching into "Drown Out," Glen explained he wrote the song for anyone doing penance or carrying guilt or self-hatred around with them, asking them to re-examine why they were feeling that way and if it wasn't worth carrying around to "Fucking shed it, man."

I'm not doing this story any justice with the way I'm telling it. The listening to the version on the album, I got chills up and down my back.

Which, really. If that's not the Universe telling me something, sending me this song and story right before Samhain, then I don't know what is. Talk about apt advice.

I've spent the past week sharing the song and the story with everyone I come in contact with, all "Listen you need to hear this one story and this song that goes with it." Sort of like my passing Samhain onto all of my Judea-Christian friends in mp3 form.

It's not just about me shedding my insecurities (although that's a classic and easy example for me to use in this case), but I think, all of us, Pagan or not, embracing change and transformation at this time of year.

Even before I started identifying as Pagan, the fall has always felt like a time of new beginnings for me. Part of it is obviously the beginning of a new school year (say it with me now: NERD), but more than that I've always felt the need to change gears from the lazy days of summer to full active days of the fall before shifting down into quiet reflective days of winter. Just like the leaves take this opportunity to be the brightest and most colorful before shedding themselves and releasing to the wind, so must we. May the wheel ever turn.

(You can hear "Drown Out" here. May you shed whatever it is that's weighing you down.)

Like they're trying to make Lutherns out of us all...

The Redhead pointed out this New York Times article to me, which of course got my dander up.

I have known many, many nuns. All of my education has come from Catholic institutions and naturally I've come in contact with nuns from various orders. I'm related to nuns. And more than anything, nuns are some of the most dedicated, hard working, compassionate people I know. Everyone jokes about scary, mean nuns that crack your knuckles with rulers, but these nuns only exist as a trope for me. Yes, I've known nuns I haven't been exactly fond of, the same way you meet any regular person that gets on your nerves.

My problem with this whole "investigation" of nuns — aside from the obvious "How long did you willfully ignore the whole pedophile priest issue? You're in no position to investigate anything; MIND YOUR P's AND Q's!" — is this section of the article:

Cardinal Levada sent a letter to the Leadership Conference saying an investigation was warranted because it appeared that the organization had done little since it was warned eight years ago that it had failed to “promote” the church’s teachings on three issues: the male-only priesthood, homosexuality and the primacy of the Roman Catholic Church as the means to salvation.

First of all: REALLY? This is your biggest concern with the nuns? That they're not towing the line when it comes to PR on your outdated and bigoted doctrines? So you're disrupting their lives and demeaning their work for this. SERIOUSLY. MY GOD. One would think they would have bigger problems to worry about. As one commenter aptly put it, "These superannuated, out-of-touch male leaders seem more concerned with spying on well-meaning nuns than with attending to more urgent matters all over the world."

Secondly, all of it smacks of Pre-Vatican II thinking, one of my major issues with Pope Benedict. Along with the removal of liturgical dance and the return of the Latin Mass, it's an effort to distance the clergy from the congregation, to make the church less accessible to those that subscribe to the faith.

Honestly, it's like the Vatican wants me to be Pagan. And given the ways I practice my faith these days, I honestly don't know why I even bother getting upset anymore.

Edit: As usual, Jezebel says it better.

Beltane, Depression, and Religion Switcheroos

(Photo above from the amazing Beltane Fire Festival of Edinburgh, which, wow, how much to I want to go there someday?)

Beltane was on Saturday, and for the first time ever, I took an actual role in the ritual, reading the antiphonal chant for the east. Marge had specifically and pointedly asked me if I would like to volunteer, and antiphonal chant seemed like something that would be hard for me to mess up.

I'm glad I did it — it's a good stepping stone for further volunteering for rituals and establishing myself in this community, other than just "that girl that shows up at the opens."

However, Beltane has a habit of bringing me down a bit. It's not supposed to: we're ushering in the summer season, celebrating the fertility of the earth, and it's a time of purification and unity. But let's face it: It's also about sex. The May Queen is crowned and she chooses her May King, someone who is equal to her in strength, intelligence, and affection. The May Queen and King are usually represented at the ritual by a couple, and this year's were particularly wrapped up in one another.

While I know that this is (again) a time for me to focus on myself and unifying the aspects of my personality so I can better unify with others around me, or whatever, that doesn't stop it from being lonely. I couldn't help but remember every dastardly breakup, every ghastly and humiliating crush, all the doomed romances in my failed life.

Part of this is the depression I've been dealing with lately. I can't seem to shake myself of my winter gloom — I'm convinced this due to my impending graduation, among other things. Graduating from college was daunting to be sure, but graduating from graduate school is a whole other ball game. Because, now what? It's not like college graduation where my adult life was waiting to begin. I'm still stuck in the same place, albeit $25,000 poorer and with a fancy piece of paper to show for it. The next logical step would be marriage, or buying a house or something equally grown-up. I'm obviously not ready for any of those things, and as someone rapidly approaching 30, I feel kind of like a mess. A failure. Which, I KNOW, is ridiculous and wrong. I think I've come to the root of my greatest fear though, which is: I'm afraid of not changing or growing and becoming stagnant.

ANYWAY, Beltane brings this into sharp relief for me, somehow. The summer is coming, everything is changing and growing, and while I'm completing this milestone and thus, changing myself, it doesn't feel like that to me. Single again, no longer in school, I regained any weight I had lost, and the constant drone of work, bills, and blah is bringing me down.

Clearly, I'm a head case and must get control over my fucked up notions.

Still, I did have a really good time at Beltane. We danced around the Maypole, which is always good for a laugh. It always looks so easy on TV and whatnot, but in reality, it's tricky because you're trying to weave the ribbons together, not just spin around the pole. So there's a whole over/under dance and when you've got 30 people, inevitably you end up getting confused, knocking into one another, and giggling like loons.

We also did the spiral dance, which is one of my favorites and which we haven't done in ages. Plus, there was a lot of May wine to partake in. And! I made a new friend. You can't ask for more than that.

---

Time has an interesting article on "Church Shopping," the act of changing faiths.

First of all, I love the image that accompanies that article. I love how the young priest is giving the How you doin'? look to those two hot pew babes. LIKE THAT EVER HAPPENS. Snort. Priests these days are not that young, trust me. Given the way every church I've ever been to begs for vocations each time during Prayer of the Faithful, young men are not entering the priesthood.

Second, as someone who is also shopping around for religion (If I am even "shopping around" any more), this confirms my theories that religion doesn't matter so much as spirituality. I felt more connected to the Divine last Monday during a new moon ritual than I did last Saturday at Billy's 1st Communion. Do I think that both religions set out to achieve the same things and are, ultimately, worshiping the same deity? Yes. But people relate to God in different ways*. What should it matter if I do it by dancing in the moonlight or by praying the rosary?

Being a long-time student of the Doc, I can tell you that religion is vernacular. Even the most dedicated strict Catholic performs rituals unsanctioned by the Church. Take, for example, the Catholic superstition of burying a statue of St. Joseph in your yard when you're trying to sell your house. My cousin Robin and I were discussing this last week and she chastised me, "Don't discount your saints!" And while I don't discount them in the slightest**, there is nowhere in the catechism that tells us to do that. No priest has ever advised that. It's purely a vernacular practice, a personal ritual and spiritual belief. It has little to do with the religion itself.

Which, I guess is my long-winded and poorly illustrated point. Religion < Spirituality.

And then, today, I heard possibly one of the most brilliant, touching and beautifully written essays. Go take a listen to TAL's latest show, and go to the 39:00 minute mark and listen to Dan Savage's piece on his mother and Catholicism. Brilliant, perfect, and true. I don't think I will ever leave Catholicism behind me — as Pagan as I become, it will always be a part of me. I will always find comfort in the motions, the colors of the stained glass, and the smell of incense.

A Catholic Pagan I will always be.

*Or in the case of atheists, not at all. And yet, even atheists I believe are highly spiritual, finding faith not in a higher power, but rather themselves. Take, for example, my two favorite atheists, Jim and Stephanie. (With whom I've had many conversations about God, usually whilst drunk.) While not believing in a God, they have a strong sense of morality and ethics, having the utmost respect for all living things (hence their veganism). If that behavior isn't showing a spiritual connection to the world around them, then I don't know what is.

** I've always had a fascination with the saints. I used to have this book of saints that I would spend ages pouring over. Even now, I feel an affinity with so many of them, and take comfort that there's a patron for everything: from television to beer, from eye afflictions to motherhood.

After Ostara

Ostara was weeks ago, but I never posted anything about it.

Originally I thought I wasn't going to be able to attend Ostara because I was supposed to have a dress rehearsal that night. But then Murder! was canceled. Still, I hesitated. Brisket was to attend the dress rehearsal and after the week he and I had gone through, I wasn't keen to cancel on him. And yet, given everything – especially what he and I had gone through – I really felt I needed to go to Ostara. It was a pickle to say the least. In the end I called him, explained the situation and invited him to come to Ostara with me. He politely declined, not feeling particularly comfortable with what the ritual would entail. We made plans for another night instead.

On an impulse, I invited my friends, Rosemontites and fellow Murder! cast members Liz and Jillian, to attend. They both happily accepted and for the first time ever, I had guests at a ritual.

Needless to say, this was a little weird for me. It was harder for me to Let Go completely and get into the whole thing. I also once again had energy-raising issues. But whatever. Time to dance away the winter, plant new seeds and broke what bound me. Talk about a ritual coming at the right effing time. And Liz and Jillian both loved and benefited from the ritual, just like I suspected they would.

After, during the feasting, I was talking to Liz and Jillian about various Pagan-related things and happened to catch the ear of one of the Sacred Crossroads members. He sort of shifted into our conversation, and at once point I commented that I wasn't even in the Inner Path, so what did I know? He turned to look at me sharply and asked why I wasn't in/on the Inner Path. "I've certainly seen you at enough of these things," he pointedly told me.

"Oh, I sort of haven't had the time," I explained. "I work full time and go to school part time and...I don't know. I haven't been able to take the Intro to Wicca course and..." I faded off as I caught sight of his raised eyebrow and a look that clearly said Cut the crap.

"Ok," I began again. "It's taken me some time to get...comfortable with this aspect of myself."

"That," he told me, "I'll accept." We ended up chatting for awhile and ultimately I think it was really helpful.

I've been delving a bit deeper recently. Nina got me hooked on a bunch of really informative Primer podcasts. And I just bought my first athame and besom. So there's that. I guess it's time to stop being on the sidelines so much and take some personal responsibility already.

After Imbolc

Attending Imbolc was sort of last minute for me. I had completely spaced on it, not realizing that the ritual had come upon us so soon. It was only because of a text message from Nina that I realized it was on Friday and thank heavens I didn't have any plans, because Imbolc was the only Sabbat I had not yet attended and the one I wanted to attend the most.

Given that my family's heritage is Irish, I feel a special affinity with Brigid, and given that this is a ritual devoted to her, I've wanted to attend this one especially. However, lately at rituals I've felt slightly stunted. I don't really want to get into it — This blog is not the place to hammer out my shit with the way things are run by a group that I'm not technically a part of, nor is it my place to really complain, because, again I'm not on the Inner Path (...yet) — but I haven't been responding as well as I had in the past, is the point. So I was slightly divided. There was a particular way I wanted feel, a certain level of energy I wanted to experience, and given they way I felt at Samhain, Mabon, and Lughnasadh, I wasn't optimistic about achieving it. On the other hand, I also knew that I should go into the ritual open and free, etc.

So you can imagine my surprise when I did, for the most part, achieve the level of energy and release that I needed. The ritual wasn't perfect, but it worked for me and I felt, for the most part, that the energy was allowed to develop and peak naturally.

Brigid is the goddess of inspiration, creativity, and healing. All things I can get behind and all things I need. Happy Imbolc!

Samhain

Samhain wasn't quite the intense, emotional experience it was for me last year. Part of that has to do with the way the ritual was run this time, and frankly I don't want to get into it. In any event, I was still able to look deep down and see what I want for the coming year, figure out what negative aspects of my emotions were blocking me and release some of them.

At one point, Hades guided us in meditation to see ourselves how we want to be. I saw myself as busy, rushing, challenged, creative, and exhilarated. In my vision, I was capable and confident. I was kicky, fun, happy and my life felt full of the best things.

So, impending international travel aside, I've been feeling a bit stagnant. Especially career-wise. I think it's time to stretch and push myself again. It's time to get going.

Fabulous Scopes!

Because I'm completely gullible and I like buying into this nonsense, I checked my monthly horoscope this morning. CHECK IT OUT, PEOPLE:

Your best week will fall at mid-month when, on November 10, the mighty Sun will signal Jupiter, the giver of gifts and luck and bearer of happiness. Jupiter is in your house of international travel and relationships, so you may be talking about taking a long trip or negotiating a very exciting global deal with an associate based in a foreign country.

OH HELL YES. (Because, remember, I leave for London on the 10th!) And THEN, it says:

This whole period of the year glitters brightly for travel, but just how wonderful it will get for you overall will not be fully revealed until next month. In that respect, you'll only see the tip of the iceberg in November, dear Taurus. This trend is about to get bigger and better by December's last week, so perhaps this month you'll make plans or hear encouraging news that you will act on next month. Wow! Planetary vibes in your travel and learning house come by only once a decade, and you're getting this now.

There are all kinds of possibilities in the works for you. Any venture having to do with publishing, broadcasting, or academia will glow brightly for you. You may be negotiating a book deal or hear of a chance to write a regular column or blog on the Internet. You may become a contributing editor in a magazine or newspaper, or host or produce a radio or TV show. All these areas could not possibly be better for you! Even in this case, next month will bring things to an even higher level of excitement, so stay the course.

Bring it on, universe, BRING IT ON. I am so ready.

Of cards and desire

Saturday night, I gave my first Tarot reading. I've never read anyone but myself, and I felt sort of weird doing it for someone else. Still, he'd asked me for a reading, and even though I had to consult the book a number of times, I felt pretty confident in my interpretation.

As a rule, you don't ask to know their question. At first, the cards seemed so scattered; pentacles and wands interloped, finance muddled with romance and wisdom — I had to stare at the spread until I could see a flow, how each card might relate to the other. I took what I knew about him (truthfully, not much) and looked for similarities in the cards.

Eventually a motif appeared, one about balance and change as well as finding maturity. The reading ended on the Three of Cups, a prosperous card of joy and celebration.

Two cards captured my attention due to their prominent position in the spread.

The Lovers -- A card of, well, lovers. Some decks have the card being depicted by an Adam and Eve, lilies and apples surrounding them to depict desire and temptation. It's a card of new beginnings, sexual attraction, and stimulation. Love is a force that makes you choose and decide for reasons you often can't understand; it makes you surrender control to a higher power. And that is what this card is all about. Finding something or someone who is so much a part of yourself, so perfectly attuned to you and you to them, that you cannot, dare not resist. In interpretation, the card indicates that the querent has come across, or will come across a person, career, challenge or thing that they will fall in love with. They will know instinctively that they must have this, even if it means diverging from their chosen path. No matter the difficulties, without it they will never be complete.

The High Priestess - She is the female version of the magician. She is often depicted with a scroll, and the scroll that she grasps contains all the secrets of life, because knowledge is hers. She is the lady guide, watchful and protecting. She brings balance and luck, wisdom and grace. But she is also secretive and mysterious. The High Priestess offers secret knowledge, like the moon on a dark night, so that the querent can find their path. She sits between the pillars of dark and light, existance and negation, wax and wane. All secret knowledge is hers.

Something flashed inside of me when I read these cards, quick and clear, of memory and instinct. Cool dewy grass, night sky, and the infinity symbol being traced across my skin.

I couldn't help but smile.

After Ostara

Only pretty ring time

I know I'm jinxing myself by saying this, but it's so nice and spring-like outside right now! I'm beginning to feel the slothy hibernation of winter subside and the jazzy activity of spring begin. Already I feel much more active and cheerful. I've started the annual Run-around-without-a-coat-on parade. I've had yearnings to -- get this -- go to the gym. Fresh vegetables have found their way into my fridge and my freezer is devoid of starchy heavy foods.

In short, I'm happy the seasons have turned and we're (mostly) putting winter behind us, even if it was a pretty mild one.

Some things:

• Vindication. Thanks to some vocal people and management finally catching a clue, Skirtgate has been completely and officially resolved. Thank you guys for being completely supportive and wonderful.
  
  
• It's almost St. Patrick's Day! St. Patrick's Day on a Monday kind of blows, but whatever. I'm looking for a party that night. Who's up for one?
  
  
• Photography, photography, photography. Uh, I've been doing a lot of it lately. Some noteworthy stuff:
  
  
  Furthering my position as crazy cat spinster lady, I took a bunch of pictures of Dill one night after catching the end of a Henri Cartier-Bresson documentary. I got all inspired and the only subject at hand was Dill, so we had a bit of a photo shoot. More are here.
  
  
  
  My company held their annual Chinese New Year Lunch and asked me to take photos. I had a lot of fun doing it. The above portrait is of my coworker Emma, who organizes the lunch every year. What started as 11 people in a tiny room has now (10 years later!) become a good portion of the company taking over the entire restaurant. More photos from that day are here.
  
  
  
  Kelly and I went to the St. Patrick's Day Parade on Sunday and I took about a million pictures. Bonus! Men in kilts! More are here.
  
  
• Operation: Get Published Along the same lines, I've begun posting more of my photos over at JPG Magazine. I had submitted photos to themes over there twice and felt very intimidated by the other "amateurs" over there. Not to mention I wasn't accepted for publication either time. But going through the latest issue and looking at some of the bios of the photographers, I realized that a great number of the contributers really were amateur and felt sort of silly about all of my intimidation. So I stopped worrying about if my photos fit in "themes" and just began posting photos to build my profile. Oh my goodness! The response I've gotten has been very gratifying. So many nice comments from really talented photographers (ones who have been published) and I'm getting "favorited" a lot. So I'm going to continue posting my best photos over there and if one should happen to fit a theme of publication, then so be it.
  
  
• Oh Fortuna... On Saturday, the Doc and Dr. McCormick took me to the orchestra as a thank you for helping with the Folk Art Exhibit and with one of the Doc's papers. We heard Camina Burana, and wow. It's a piece I've heard a thousand times before, but nothing compares to it live. If it comes to an orchestra near you make an effort to go, because it was nothing short of incredible.
  
  
• While we're talking about Doc... Fuck you, Health Insurance Company. I fucking hate you and your ass face. You suck. Stop being such douchenozzles.
  
  
• Catholic Pagan Unitarian Peace Mission Quaker Tomorrow night is Ostara and I am really looking forward to it. I'm ready to dance the winter away.
  
  
• One last picture This time of the Face of Boe, Jim and Stephanie's cat, who, yes is named after a Doctor Who character. Shut up. She's awesome and cute and I may kidnap her one day. Shh, don't tell Jim and Stephanie.
  

Carne Vale

Somehow I totally skipped out on the fact that today is Shrove Tuesday. Or Fat Tuesday. Or Fausnacht Day. Whatever you want to call it.

Despite being a Catholic Pagan Unitarian Peace Mission Quaker who no longer celebrates most Catholic traditions, I really like the Ash Wednesday. Of course, it's not for the right reasons, but hey, we all have our vernaculars.

I like Ash Wednesday for that moment when ashes are spread across my forehead and I am told, "Remember you are from dust, and unto dust you shall return." Which, like I said, is not the intention. You're supposed to feel repentant, guilty for being a sinner. But I've never really felt that penance like I'm supposed to, that fear of being judged. It's sort of macabre, but it reminds me that time is fleeting and that I should use the time I'm given full. Embrace life and live it to the fullest. The only thing I've ever felt sorry for is not living up to my potential and being wasteful. That's what I get out of it, and that's why I keep going back year after year to get my ashes. It's one of the few Catholic rituals that I feel something for, a sense of connection to, even if it's the wrong connection.

Anyway. Jasmine brought a bunch of fausnachts into the office today and I was overcome with glee. I haven't had fausnachts on Shrove Tuesday since I was in high school. Like, real, honest-to-goodness fausnachts. So after stuffing my face with one, I dashed to my computer and franticly emailed my mom to ask her to freeze some for me from St. Gertrude's. Or whatever they call that church now.

Starting tomorrow, I will be abstaining from all sweet treats for at least 40 days. I will also be making an effort to go to the gym again. Because in part with that "living life to the fullest" and "living up to my potential" means a little self improvement. I may also, depending on how hard core I am feeling tomorrow, give up red meat (which I don't eat that much of anyway) or meat altogether. I haven't decided.

In any event, I've been invited to a Fry Party this evening at Haven and Mike's so that might have to happen, for one more day of hedonistic face stuffing before all the work begins.