…hurts. I think I cut it accidentally while I was doing a crafty thing. But for some reason, I keep forgetting to put a band aid on it.

I asked myself why I beat myself up. Don’t I get enough of that from other people?

When I rock or flap or get stuck like a broken record when I can’t think myself out of a groove, I still feel like a retard. I don’t like that word. It’s so mean. But I feel that low thing that the word means.

I watched Juno and it made me cry. I think sometimes that I watch movies that give me an excuse to cry and then I bawl. But not really because of the movie.

I feel like I mutter under my breath with my actions sometimes. Like I’m extroverted and then oops.. didn’t mean that. I don’t know what I was thinking… just a thing, I think. A mistake. Yeah.. a mistake. I didn’t mean to do that.. nope. Didn’t mean to do that.

A student told me today that I had seemed out of it last night. And I immediately straightened up and put a big smile on and laughed along. Yeah.. must have just been under the weather… ha ha. I took a gulp of green tea.

None of this has anything to do with my finger really. I think my finger was just an excuse to say that I feel very strange in my skin right now. I read a book on Asperger’s Syndrome in relationships written by a woman who thinks we are alien and weird. And now I feel alien and weird and I didn’t mean to feel that way. I intend to write a scathing review.

Last night was a really tough night of lots of soul searching and True Path Healing. Putting the pieces together of past trauma is never easy… especially when it’s yourself trying to do it. But I did come to a few really important conclusions - one of which was about drug use.

My drug of choice for a couple of years was acid. I did enough acid to last anyone a lifetime. I heard once that if you do 10 hits of acid, you are considered legally insane. Whether it’s true or not, I would do that easily in a weekend - every week… for over a year. And yes, there were other things mixed in.. but it was the acid that had the most impact.

When I started using acid, I was in a pivotal point of my life. I had just realized that everything I thought I knew wasn’t necessarily so. I had discovered that I was walking down a long blind hallway of relationships that there was something wrong with. A close friend said he could get acid so he, me and another close friend all dropped for the first time. And so it was that me and my issues intersected with acid.
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There is a flavor to the air when it’s late like this. It’s silent out and every responsible upstanding person is in bed early enough to be useful tomorrow at work and school. And I’m going out to get a burger because I’m craving beef. Trance droning on and on. Barely any cars out on the road. I meet one at the four way and it’s an odd camaraderie type thing.. like “wtf are you doing out, dude. Aren’t you supposed to be in bed by now? Oh.. yeah.. I guess, me too. Catch ya later.” Or something.

The flavor comes… the late night, no one is out, sprinklers have been on, trance is droning flavor. It’s a grossness that eeks up over my shoulders and makes me want to wince. Even though I was cleaning up after teaching a witchcraft class - not wiping mascara from under my tired eyes. And even though I was going for a burger, not fervently studying every red light as if maybe I misinterpreted it. Even though the trance is from a radio station I listen to even during the day - not a softer gentler version of what was pounding through my body while doing very bad things. I still feel guilt. I feel like after my burger, I need to come home and take a shower because driving to get that burger was a very, very bad thing to be doing. Not because it was… but because I was driving at night when no one is out, when the air is still misty from the sprinklers and I was listening to trance. That’s it. That’s all it took to send me spiraling back to not-so-great moments.
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There need not be an argument. You, Misses Frou Frou Pagan Witchypants are FAR more witchy than I am. Where you probably drink directly from the springs of the mountains, I get plain old city water out of a faucet. You probably live in a tipi of animal skins on the bare earth - while I live in the comparative lowliness of a home in the suburbs. You - probably shoot your dinner with bows and arrows and cook it over the element of FIRE in a pot of the element of WATER and give thanks to the EARTH for the bounty of the seasons… whereas I ordered pizza tonight.

Yes, you, Misses Frou Frou Pagan Witchypants are FAR more witchy than I - as well as, apparently, everyone in my Feri family too. Because We? We do not prance upon the earth in barest of feet being witchy often enough.

I would offer you a cookie but it would dim in relative witchiness to you. I would touch you but I might sizzle in the element of fire that you, Misses Frou Frou Pagan Witchypants, probably dance in before bed every night.

As I’m preparing to photograph a bunch of stuff for etsy and ebay, I found that I needed to put together a photo booth that gives a little better results. My first step was to build diffusing screens to soften the light in order to get rid of glare and some of the shadows.

Get this stuff :

• A frame. I made my frame out of sturdy cardboard. It could easily be made out of balsa wood, plywood, hardboard or similar. You could also use a picture frame without any glass in it (crafting stores carry them) or an embroidery hoop depending upon what size you need/want. The screen should be AT LEAST big enough to completely cover the light source. Bigger is better. You’re going to put heavy staples through/in it so it needs to be able to hold up to that.
• Thin, translucent white fabric. Any kind of gauzy, silky type fabric works. It should actually have some substance to it… no netting or lacy stuff. It should be strong enough to hold up to staples without tearing. If you put black print behind it, you should ALMOST be able to make out the letters but not quite. Muslin or satin is too opaque.
• A staple gun and lots of staples.

Then do this :

1. Lay the front of your frame face down on top of the fabric. Pull the fabric up over the first edge (doesnt matter which one) and staple it all the way down that side.
2. Turn the frame so that you’re working on the opposite side as the first side. Pull the fabric as taunt as possible. It wont be really tight until the other two opposing sides are done so no worries yet. Staple that edge securely.
3. Turn the frame to one of the unfinished edges. Beginning at the edges and moving your way into the center of that side, pull the fabric over inch by inch as tightly as possible and staple it. Leave the corners alone for now.
4. Turn the frame to the last remaining side. Pull the fabric over as tightly as possible and staple it.
5. Go back to the corners and pull them as tightly as possible and put as many staples into it as necessary.

If it’s not perfectly tight and straight, don’t worry about it. You’ll put the finished screen between your light and the object to get a more diffuse lighting situation rather than having glare on the object. I have a screen for each of two lights that point into the ‘booth’ from different angles.

Pics below the cut.

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Unlike Voyant, this recipe will not yield a cream liqueur. This recipe makes a strongly flavored, sweet vanilla chai liqueur that is meant to be mixed with cream and/or other liquors. Great as a warm drink - nuke a half mug of milk and add liqueur. Great served over ice with cream or over ice cream.

You Need :
400ml of vodka (entire completed recipe yields 750ml)
4t of chai tea mix (I use Carriosities)
2 cups of sugar
2T vanilla extract
1 cup water

1. If you’re using a bagged tea, break the bags open to measure. Pour the herb and tea leaf mixture directly into the vodka.
2. Allow it to soak for 10-12 hours. Shake it up every few hours.
3. Filter out the solids by pouring it through a strainer or coffee filter.
4. Bring the water to a boil and then add the sugar and vanilla
5. When the sugar is completely dissolved, remove it from heat and allow it to cool completely.
6. Add it to the vodka mixture (to taste) and shake

My 30th birthday is less than two months away. I know, I know.. I whine on about it. BUT I CANT HELP IT. I’LL. BE. 30.

Today, I pulled up to Starbucks and I had to wait for this guy to close his car door. He was a cute 20ish frat boy type with a shit eatin’ grin, dirty blond hair and dimples. Hot, actually. He was getting his school books out of his back seat. He looked up and saw me waiting.. and then did a double take and smiled and bent WAY over before he stood up and looked again. Taking his SWEET time like I must be enjoying it. And all I could think was ‘Get out of my way, kid. I need to park my car’. Have I really gone that far into old ladydom? 5 years ago… erm.. 10 years ago, I would have given my left arm for a kid like that to look at me like that. Gods.. 10 years ago.

I think, this year, my mental age has finally progressed past 19… but not by much. Maybe somewhere between 22 and 25. Is it unbecoming for me to act so young? Who says I have to grow up? Will I ever stop being so goddamned wound up over how the numbers just don’t fit? Am I going to be one of those pathetic moms who always says it’s her 29th birthday and everyone kinda rolls their eyes and laughs at the cliche?

I’m clinging to my 20s. I feel like the next two months are a slippery slope that I’m attempting to dig my heels into. I won’t be a 20 something anymore. I look back at how I spent my 20 somethings and shouldn’t they have been filled with naked bodies, lots of substances, questionable activities and roommates? My teens were that way… before I was actually legally supposed to be doing that. My 20s were filled with marriages and children and counseling people twice my age.

Youth is truly wasted on the young. I don’t regret it… but it will be my 40s before I really get to live my 20s. And then, I won’t be a twenty something. I’ll be a 40 something trying to relive my 20s. I see how that happens now.

… about people who argue about Elvish orthography and the correct translation between English and Elvish.

I’m just sayin’. That’s all… just sayin’.

So much has happened in the last week that’s made me question my sanity. If there weren’t witnesses, I might have. I got clandestine emails that turned out to be a cruel trick by the last person I expected. Before I knew for sure, a deceased loved one of someone else tipped a table to tell me. I found the Star of David on a flower petal.. and then the fairies took it. I found an old friend, only to find a demon masquerading.

It’s only in the life of me, lately, that this sort of thing happens. I told a friend who witnessed part of it that I don’t think I could have made shit up that was that good. I could try. But it would sound like a really horrible fantasy fiction novel. Or like a really nutso blog entry.

Phantoms play on shadows like the breath upon a sigh. Amidst the noise of evening life, a quiet tone that I still hum along with, sigh in spite of, press in front of, still deny it. Carefully avoiding, placing everything beside of. It meant something, it meant something. It didn’t go away. It never did, may never will in some small, tiny way. Quick encounters, brief exchanges, brisk and momentary ways to brush off, ways to rush off in completely different ways. There is no room, no way, no how. The only time I ever went there. I wish this weren’t that time, right now. I wish I had the nerve to look there. I don’t, I won’t. A stalemate, stop short, dancing with disaster. But that won’t stop the ghosts from laughing, dancing, breathing faster. Like two selves of calm.. placid… cool… even. Clawing, growling, thrashing, heaving. It must have been a whirlwind, stepping in and drowning under. It must have seemed the wrong place at an arm’s length like it’d found her completely in a huge mess like her life must always be that. It must have seemed a joke to hear it doesn’t always happen. That happenings were happenstance right when it all was happening. I could say a million times that nothing ever was that way. I think I did try, mumbling, swearing, fervently, seeing forward. There hasn’t been new turmoil though, it really never happens. A wind blew in, among it change, amidst it someone, caught and pulling back, away. I see it now just like I did. Nothing’s changed… it all is different. Static, blind eye, covered, scarred, behind it something hated. Nothing’s hiding, it’s all plain and I still know what’s there.

Or maybe it’s just the air from the fan. Or the sound of the fountain.. or the flicker of the candle. Or maybe it’s not.