Archive for Health

Nyx/Nótt (and a bonus, accidental yet brief “Primer” on Chaos Magick/Discordians!)

Posted in About me, On the Gods with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 27, 2015 by Tyrienne
Artist unknown= If you can help me identify the artist, I would like to credit them properly.  This image has been found on multiple pages under different Goddess names.

Artist unknown= If you can help me identify the artist, I would like to credit them properly. This image has been found on multiple pages under every possible listed “Night Goddess name” from Nott, Breksta, Nyx, Mah, and even Artemis. Being archetypal in belief myself, I do not believe any of these names are inaccurate.

“Take my hand”-she said
She wore a dark blue dress made of night
In her hair a crown of stars
She stood at the prow of a small boat
gently perched upon the shore
Her right hand on the pole to steer
and her left hand out- to me
“Will you take me?”
I asked of her
“To the other side?”
I did not know what was resided there
but I was tired of residing here
“Do you know who I am?” she asked,
I had not a clue
but I replied, I put more trust in strangers,
then the people I already knew.
The night was calmly quiet,
Just the sound of her oar upon the tides
I did not say a word to her
words tend to lend to lies
In the boat there was a blanket
soft, so dark, and warm.
I feared not how I appeared to her
wrapped tight, safe, and alone.
I did not know the water
Whether ocean, lake or stream
I did not know the oarswoman
Nor awake or in a dream
As I closed my eyes
upon the gentle waves
I felt her hand upon me
and felt peace there as I lay

********************************************

I wrote the above poem over the summer on another blog (which I will delete promptly after this writing) based on a fever dream when I was severely ill. I never really felt “right” writing in the new space and of the four posts I made in that blog, this was only thing worth salvaging or coherent.

At the time of writing, I was recovering from a hospitalization due to complications on account of Lyme’s disease that were nearly fatal to me.  I lost my summer to a combination of darkness and sleep; often too weak or in pain to do very much at all.  (With the right combinations of medications and time, I am back to normal functioning at this time, thankfully.)

Nótt is a personification of night.  In Ancient Roman traditions, she is called Nyx, which is her most common name and is considered a daughter of Chaos (Eris– to Discordians)….apropos in particular to me since my spirituality tends to lead me to Discordianism/Chaos Magic forums in a sort of double-life between Heathenry and Discordianism.  There is an extensive mythos to her archetype in countless European cultures.  To Latvian/Lithuanians, she is called “Breksta” (Twilight) and to the Persians, “Mah“- of similar description and imagery.

Chaos Tradition (which is likely one of the most recently reconstructed forms of “lost” spirituality) is simply the acceptance that we do not possess the capability of understanding the nature of the universe.  In Theistic Discordianism,  The practitioner remains fluid; divination is “off the cuff” from surface impressions and prayers are expected to be answered in entirely unexpected ways.   Truly, having a degree in Philosophy has convinced me no one can have a monopoly on knowledge when all human knowledge is inevitably flawed in relation to “ultimate reality”.

Many Discordians see that pathway to their desires being a “surprise” with only the final result of intention being what matters. This process lies in accepting the “price” of uncertainty in the process and in some, an avoidance of “formal” ritual- but Discordianism, like its Goddess, is mercurial, capricious, and spontaneous.  (and often whimsical, in our fashion) Therefore, what is true for me in navigating Eris is going to, inevitably, be entirely different in UPG than others, as others are from one another.

The “path” (to me) as metaphor is a wild river through unknown lands- but the destination is known…. or, conversely, if the path is known, the destination is not….and each path taken in Discordianism/Chaos magics is seldom tread twice.

We understand we cannot have everything, but embrace contradictions, madness, spontaneity, coincidence, and our own form of “grace” which we find in fortuitous synchronicity which guide us.  The more “synchronicity” in life; the more “on track” we are with our intentions and works since synchronicity is seen by some of us (myself included) as the reward for good works or as encouragement to pursue the ideas thought at the time of said synchronicity.

My schedule leaves me sometimes in “eternal night” since I tend to fall asleep around 5am and have found myself so accustomed to working 3rd shift from my occupation prior to college, I feel more comfortable in darkness than light….leaving the lights off in my apartment often until my husband returns from work after midnight.

Honestly, light is uncomfortable for me, in the light, I must wear glasses, but by some strange design, my night vision is exceptional except in reading print.

I do not know what the dream meant other than to inspire this poem.

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June 6, 2012 to present. For Loki.

Posted in About me, On the Gods with tags , , , , , , , , on July 21, 2013 by Tyrienne

I don’t remember walking in, but I remember being carted out; strapped to the gurney, I cried and the EMT held my hand and promised to undo the straps as soon as no one could see us, only leaving one remaining- the one on my waist- as he told me about his wife, his move from Florida to Pennsylvania- and anything else that would distract me from looking out the back window during the hour drive south.  They let me walk in- I somehow managed to pack my red bag with the right clothes- I don’t remember doing it
I had the same intake doctor as before.  He asked me about my studies of Muhammad Iqbal, and of Rumi once again- and I broke down. I just asked him for one thing:  Give me the same doctor I had before; the head doctor- the only one who would believe me- request granted.  But they would not give me the same nurses as before.
I went directly to my room- my brother had bought me all three books of “The Hunger Games,”  and my roommate was quiet and from Eastern Europe- brought in by her own mother when she would not disclose why she would no longer speak.  To me, she said, she had just ended a secret affair with a woman.  Her husband didn’t know- and since she was not there on her own volition, anything she said could be disclosed to her family.

In the morning, they asked for blood, I sat in the chair- and the rubber around my upper arm caused me to panic-  I felt trapped to the chair again, I closed my eyes, the phlebotomist was incompetent.  I met with Dr. C…. I listed off every single method one can kill themselves in under 15 minutes (the amount of time between being “checked on”)

“Is that really the best use of your intelligence you can think of?”  He sighed.  “You know, I told you if you kept going you would end up back here- but there isn’t much we can do for you except keep you as safe as we can for a little while.  What do you want?”

I wanted to erase the past three years…. I wanted the police borough that held me for 5 hours handcuffed to a chair to burn down,  I wanted the past 2 years erased from my memory.  I wanted to forget how to speak Farsi.  I wanted to be left alone, I wanted to be held, I wanted to die.

Instead, I said- “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

He replied:  “Well, the same offer is on the table as last time…. Look- I can divide C-PTSD and make each symptom a separate diagnosis.  Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Severe Depression, Agoraphobia, Delusional disorder, non specified.”

“I’m not delusional.”

“Flashbacks are delusions.”

I always look people directly in the eyes- the opposite of most of my friends and family.  I don’t think I blinked.

“So, then what happens?”

“You take a break.  You stay in treatment- you stop applying to graduate schools for now and concentrate on getting better… If you don’t, you will keep ending up back here.  You know what’s wrong with you, I know what’s wrong with you- and we can’t do anything for you except give you a safe place to be for a while.”  He repeated.

“What if I never feel safe again?  Am I here forever?”

“Insurance wouldn’t take kindly to that.”

“Oh.”

“When do I get to have a life again?”

“When you stop making decisions based on how you want to die rather than on how you want to live- Graduate school in Tehran was a ridiculous idea and you know it…. when your medical team can come to a consensus that you are healthy enough.”

“They rejected me anyway… after the Canadian embassy was sacked, they said it was unsafe for an American woman to enter any of their programs at this time.”

“So, then- go to group when you can- do what you usually do. At least out of everyone here I know you know how to keep yourself occupied.  Worry about the police thing later- I know it seems impossible- but try not to think on it too much.”

So, I went back to my room- the mattress creaked of plastic- I already knew how to steal extra blankets.  The weather outside was warm enough to spend an hour a day in the sunlight- I read all three books quickly and passed them on to other patients.

I listened to other people’s stories- I played and read cards.  Who was in and out is a blur-  after your third visit, you can’t recall who you met each time.   At night, I would pace the hallways until the sleeping pills worked.  I would wake up with the sun, cover my head with my stolen pillows from the released patients, and wait until 9am.   I sat through tediously boring sessions.  Dr. C would see me once a day and occasionally ask me, out of curiousity, what *I* would diagnose a new comer.   I was getting good at it by now- after 20+ cumulative days of three different visits- you can almost detect the patterns immediately.

The Borderline, The Bipolar, PTSD, Depression, Schizophrenia, OCD, Anorexia Nervousa- and the combinations of conditions.   The Schizophrenics would undergo swan-like transformations from raving lunatics to articulate, intelligent geniuses in a matter of days.   The borderlines would stay exactly the same- the center of attention- telling elaborate stories of their suicide attempts like one would speak about their time elected as prom queen.

This time, I had a Hamaval- I met a Swede who I lent it to, “This is a REAL religion- the Norse Gods are Real?”
I told him, to the best of my knowledge, they were- but hey, I was in here too- how much could you really trust what I believe?

After three days I noticed a pattern… despite auxiliary conditions- everyone in the ward this time was in for the exact same reason.  Each person had JUST suffered abuse at the hands of another, or several other, people.

The group sessions were centered on identifying how not to become re-victimized, the traits of sociopathy/psychopathy and how to identify them and avoid their webs.  One man was told to break up with the woman who held a knife to his throat three days before- he was in his 40’s and sat against the wall with his head in his hands, shivering.  I gave him my sweatshirt and asked him to keep it.  It was June, the air conditioner was malfunctioning and I raided the lost and found for warmer clothing.

A young man with Asperger’s gave me his shirt in exchange; his marriage at 22 was collapsing and he had the blue medical band wrapped around one wrist tightly that proclaimed he had second thoughts halfway up his arm.

A retired chemist with MS and I spent a great deal of time talking about Kevorkian….and the idiocy of how they would show a ward of almost-suicides a video about a man who wanted to row his boat into the middle of the ocean, hang off the side by one hand, and shoot himself.  A perfect, clean kill.

She wrung her hands…. “I just don’t know if my body would let me row far enough out for it to work for me- and my fingers.  And what if the gun got wet if the sea wasn’t calm?”  I suggested a dowel rod threaded into the trigger, a plastic bag to house the gun, and an outboard motor- rowing was unnecessary, and it wasn’t like she would have to worry about returning the boat.  Her laugh sounded like a cough.

My father visited and brought pizza- my best friend and my brother and sister in law took turns visiting.  A local folkbuilder and some friends made a trip out to see me.  On the phone I heard my friend Al’s voice for the first time in the 12 years I had known him from the think tank we had both been in when I was younger.

On the day I was released, my grandfather called me telling me I “had an imaginary condition, I couldn’t have PTSD- I was no soldier, it wasn’t “real” like a heart condition.  I would have done the family a favor by killing myself as opposed to shaming the family with my voluntary commitment.”

When I came home, I was in the process of moving from the woods to the city.  I had a guy I was dating casually (I never see more than one person at a time) who packed most of my things for me (not that I own much) out of machismo and I rented a room to wait out the next few months.   I stayed confined to that room for the most part, leaving only to use the bathroom or to eat when my roommate was not home.  I began to run out of food- because I did not wish to drive despite the grocery store being less than a mile from home.   On occasion, I could be coaxed to reading or to visit my brother or the boyfriend at the time- driving behind elderly drivers, tractor trailers, and older cars than my own.

Another friend became incredibly jealous and psychotic- spreading lies about the two of us- and I cut him out of my life without mercy.   The romantic relationship with my now ex-boyfriend at the time ended congenially by the end of June on account of irreconcilable political differences.  We’re still friends.

In July, there was a beautiful young redhead with bright teal blue eyes in Reading interested in me- but he was a little young, I thought, until he disclosed he was actually 29.

I had put him off for three months at this point and I agreed to meet him at Freyfaxi- July 28th.  I dressed up for the occasion, and oddly enough, as did he- in a kilt.  The relationship started immediately, much to the happiness of some and consternation of others.

Within a week, I had a dream-  I was in philosophy class but the teacher had red hair-  the test was wrong, the questions were on mico-biology and I was woefully unprepared.   I woke up, fell asleep again….the same teacher with the red hair was now gym teacher or some sort of sports coach….he wore a red and white track suit, his bright hair neatly slicked back and his face sported a perfect goatee.  He offered me candy, flavored tootsie rolls to be exact, and he seemed to be nervously happy that I wasn’t afraid of him.

“Most people don’t like me much these days,” he said.

I replied, “I don’t understand why not, you seem nice enough to me- are you nice?”

“I try to be- but it doesn’t always turn out for the best sometimes.” he looked down and smiled sadly.

“That can be said for anyone, don’t be so hard on yourself.  Kant would approve at least…he says that it’s the intention that counts.”

“Yes, but you also think that Kant is an asshole.” he smiled again, and teased at me a little- I can’t remember if he poked me or flipped my hair- something of that sort.

I woke up again, flipped the pillow over to the cool side, and passed out a third time.  My windows were dark with a tapestry- I stayed up late and woke even later most days.

This time, the same man met me in front of the statue of John Comenius in front of my old college.  There were no cars on either side of the road- and this time, he was dressed in a long black coat, dark jeans, boots, and a white shirt.  His hair was the same- tied back into a short ponytail and he asked me to sit next to him.  I had met him 3 years before in a dream- where he taught English and was Heathen- and told me to protect my mentor at the time…. the situation ended catastrophically- with the grand finale the 5 hour long interrogation by local police, handcuffed to a chair, as I was broken.

The red-haired man apologized. “I didn’t expect things to turn out this way-  I can see many things, but I can’t see everything- I can be many places, but I cannot be everywhere.  I honestly thought you would be fine.  Better than fine.  I am so sorry.”

Sometime during this conversation I said “So, you aren’t Bragi, are you?”- and he smirked despite seeming rather defeated looking overall.

“Look, I promise you- I will make this right.  I will protect you, and I will give you Eddie to protect you on Midgard- and this is my promise to you.”

From inside his coat, he pulled out a perfect red rose on fire with bright flames but did not burn.  I touched the petals with my fingers and felt only coolness, as if the flames were made of wind and breezes rather than fire.

He had his arm around me, protectively, like an older brother as I held the rose-  he looked forward into the distance with his green eyes at things I could not see and seemed to be paying close attention to countless things and thoughts I could not perceive.  I kept looking at the rose and I quietly thanked Him for everything.  I knew it wasn’t His fault, and I told him so.

He complimented me for my grace and understanding.

I shrugged.

How could I hold someone accountable for the free will of humans to do wretched things with deliberate purpose?

Not even a God can control a man, much less more than one whose only intentions and motivations were to cause irrevocable harm….

Right now, I am trying to learn how not  to blame myself for being too naive at the time to know otherwise, either.

This was my flashback today-  I rode it out, and it lead me back to Loki.  I feel better for writing this, and between His concern and the guidance of Tyr in particular I am in a much better place than I was a year ago.

Freyfaxi is Sunday- and I will be marrying that beautiful redhead for real- not just the stupid court thing, but the real thing, by Braucher and Universalist Pastor….and Loki’s statue will be on the altar. (among others)

Living With a “Broken” Heart- and Why I Think it’s Hilarious….

Posted in About me, Justice, On the Gods with tags , , , , , , , , , on June 21, 2013 by Tyrienne
Artist unknown- But It's Loki! With a Raven- in red stuff.  Think Neil Gaiman's "Desire" from "Sandman": Loki at the threshold of the heart, perhaps?  :)

But It’s Loki! With a Raven- in red stuff. Think Neil Gaiman’s “Desire” from “Sandman”: Loki at the threshold of the heart, perhaps?
🙂
Artist-“Loki transforming into falcon” by spanielf on deviantArt (here is a link to the illustration: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Loki-transforming-into-falcon-120901782).

So, a long time ago and far far away (according to my memories, anyway- I can’t remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday)…I was in and out of hospitals for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  This was actually a year or two ago-  I’m pretty open about it, I learned a great deal.

Firstly, I learned that the vast majority of “mental” patients are sensitive, intelligent people who are simply victims of extraordinary levels of abuse.  Then again, in “The Horsham Hotel”, as we called the clinic- they did their very best to put people with similar conditions in the same ward- honestly, out of meeting 40 people over the course of 9-12 days each time, I MIGHT have met 2-4 people who were legitimately insane in the way you would typically imagine…and out of those 4, as soon as 2 of them were medicated, they were NORMAL.  I learned that a schizophrenic on medication can out-clever almost any PhD student, and I would sit in awe of the intelligence of some of the people I met whose conditions were so much more socially stigmatized than my own- but, fuck-all if they weren’t brighter, more perceptive, and more “crippled” by living in a society where innate genius is suspect unless channeled into academic achievement or government service.

Anyway, before I get off topic too badly.  On a scale from 1 to pancake as far as “crazy” goes-  I average out somewhere on the “pancake” side of average…but I am pancake enough that I still have far to go, recovery-wise.  I try too hard, I write too much, I break the rules and read up on current events and get all guilty feeling and upset because I could have/should have/would have/ might have been someone who could have been a voice of reason in the well of Crazy they call American media: then subsequently,  I lose my mind on occasion, I forget where I am, I have flasbacks- the whole 9 yards- I’ve said this all before- yadda, yadda, yadda….

So, to the meat and bones of this post- over this time, the majority of my family disowned me- because PTSD was not considered “real” enough to them- despite the fact that most of these same people were there to witness first hand the initial abuse that started the chain reaction of events that lead to being put on SSD- started with physical child abuse and ended in a police interrogation where I was cuffed to a chair and interrogated for 5 hours while denied legal council…

Look, I just wanted to be a diplomat to Iran. (Don’t worry, I don’t anymore.  Hell, I hardly leave this apartment.)

You try and sit through a full police interrogation with PTSD already,  and see how sane you feel after that.

I believe the quote from my grandfather was to the tune of: “It would have been better if you did kill yourself instead of stealing OUR Social Security WE paid into- besides, it’s not a REAL disease like a Heart condition.”  When he so kindly called me when I was released from the hospital.

Well, I have some news!……drumroll please….

I have a heart condition!  (Also, I paid into Social Security just like every other American from 15 years old onward- and made decent money for most of my 20’s- that section of my family is wealthy and newly judgmental since moving into their retirement cult community of tea-partying psuedo-Libertarians)

Anyway, so- it’s Tachycardia-  It seems to have almost the exact same physical symptoms as a panic attack- which means I can not discern when I am truly “Panicked” or if it’s just my heart losing rhythm- they both amount to the same symptoms in the end.   I also have asthma, but that’s old news.  This will require surgery- I am ineligible for pills since most of my normal prescriptions are on the “sedative” side anyway- and my heart rate is still 110-150.  Without sedatives?  We don’t know- but they rejected my idea for me to go off my normal routine medications for a few days for fear of breaking 200 bpm at-rest.

I said “I think that sounds neat, actually.”
They were not amused.

They still won’t give me a straight answer on a scale from “Common cold” to “Deadly Cancer” as to what Tachycardia translates to- but they will not medicate me for it since my blood pressure is 80/60.  Because, really- they still don’t know.  They know it’s above “Common cold”, though with the blood pressure taken into consideration.

They said, if medicated, I would likely faint often-  I replied “I’m terrible at sleeping anyway- I don’t mind, really!”  Again, they were not amused.

I don’t feel a thing, I was diagnosed by a nurse at the local blood center I was donating my platelets to regularly. Without a dose of Valium immediately prior to entering the building, I would get kicked out 2/3 days in a row for my high pulse.  I joked about it.  I wanted them to put up a chart of records for everything I used to get kicked out for:  High heart rate, low blood pressure, low iron, high iron, etc.   Mostly, it was my heart rate.  I thought it was a giant joke, really.  My heart has been like this for YEARS.  I do not feel a damned thing.

The nurse didn’t think it was funny either which is why I got sent to the cardiologist.

Anyway, so I have never felt so utterly Lokian/Lokien as I do at this moment with this situation: I have a condition which I can’t feel distinctly from my typical daily madness… and the cherry on the icing is that it makes my family look like complete ASSHOLES (even more so than before.) AND they will have to face the masses of people who love me, who all know what they said to me and what I am going through.

Delicious.

In pulling my records- it is clear that the Tachycardia was present but undiagnosed for at least 5 years at minimum…and my heart on account of this is “larger” than it should be- this is apparently a problem too.

I’m not dying of this, but it could be PART of the fabric of my psyche that I just became so accustomed to I cannot discern it from anything else- from asthma attack to flashbacks-  It could be Tachycardia, It could be my lungs, or I could be crazy.

For everyone who hoped I ended up “broken hearted”-  Hah! Loki rules.

If you ever ask for Loki to make you a milkshake, be prepared to be put in a blender and covered with whipped cream, asshats.  Loki is not the God I personally go to for favors, for curses, etc.

For me, he’s the one I go to to say “Thank you” or more appropriately “Hey, check out this humorous insanity here…”

I figure there are more than enough people asking Him for the wrong things-  Thinking he is some Asatru version of Satan.  I imagine there is some cult kindred out there wearing upside-down Valknuts and chanting in backwards German to Loki, Sutr, and Hel- and making complete and total asses of themselves.

I look up to Loki, I abide by His example- and right now, I think I am handling this with the humour He would expect out of such a situation.   I have made my friends and  family aware of all the little gory details of this new development so even if they are incapable of feeling shame for their treatment of me- I know others will look on them with further disgust at their negligence and ignorance- which satisfies me.

And to anyone who “cursed me with a broken heart”, if they exist at all-  Way to fuck that one up! 🙂

So, I call a cardiologist- all total I have had 6 days in testing and all that has been concluded is mine is in no way connected to my mental condition whatsoever- and I still have 2 more weeks of testing to go; which they are graciously allowing me to wait until AFTER my wedding to complete, grudgingly.  The blood center called today too-  I am banned from returning without a doctor’s note giving me “permission” to donate again.

Most people they beg…me?  They need a permission slip.  Only a Lokian.

I’m sorry, but a heart monitor on a sling will NOT be my “something blue”…. and I promised I would try not to die. By the end of August, though- I should have an idea of what this all means, as in- “Will insurance cover the surgery now…or do I need to wait until I am of a certain age like my hysterectomy?”

I’ve been working on finding personal immortality, so far so good…. however, in typical shamanic process I have been slowly having parts of my body surgically removed since I was 19.  In the Dreamtime, they usually put crystals in there or something- last time I had something removed they gave me a pump full of penicillin- Cool, except I was allergic to Pennicilin and ended up on 3 months worth of burn-patient meds.

It was the best summer I can’t remember-  except to recall my military buddy fighting with a 19 year old over who got my excess tampons- he wanted them for bullet wounds….and I recall a lot of pills, trying to read “Dune” repeatedly, and writing a tripped out report on the movie “Gattica” for a class I only physically sat through two sessions of.  I got an A for the semester.  Great professor, Dr. Falla; I’m still sad I missed his lectures, but I have been to his church services where he is a pastor.

(Do you have any idea how hard it is to sit through a church service lead by one of your college professor…?  I wanted to raise my hand so badly and ask for clarification when he was using the scriptures of Paul… why not the gospels? Council of Nicaea approved texts?=bad news!  C’mon sir, you’re UCC!  I want to hear some Gnosticism! )

Speaking of religiousy things- The Wedding festivities are all of July-still…. and it’s open invitation to all who wish to come and bring food to the picnic on the 28th.  Plenty of time for the news of my “broken heart” to make the rounds, I’m sure.

We are excited to meet with our favorite Braucher on the 29th of June and his Universalist cohort to plan the ceremony itself. 🙂

Go team Jotun-born-  You guys did me a solid once again- there really isn’t anything bad to say about me at this point, except in that I might be just a TAD bit too smug that in the end, people have to eat the their own unjust words, or at least- guard their mouths more carefully for what they ask for might come true and turn the tables on them…

….and if I “need” anything, I ask Tyr.   Justice?  In a way that doesn’t bother me physically in any way but makes other people look foolish and exposes them as inconsiderate?  Sure, I’ll take it.

But again, what Lokian would not be this way?

🙂
(P.S. I have no idea why people spell it “Lokien” vs. “Lokian”; does anyone out there in cyberspace have an answer? Does it even matter?)

Hello Stalkers! :)

Posted in About me with tags on June 17, 2013 by Tyrienne

Just because one is paranoid does not mean people are not watching you…. Fun fact.

First of all, people don’t “get” me….because they lack the mental facilities to do so.  The ones who do “get” me, I’m actually friends with.

Hello random asshole in Sweden who reads my stuff-  Did you know that wordpress tracks which countries tune into my blog?  How is your midlife crisis going with the child you did not want and the life of lies you’re living?  Having fun dumping your kids off at your wife’s parents to relive your days when you could be an responsibility-less new ager and insulting my fiancee because he knows you have no skills to speak of other than autism and gullibility?

How many people know you are an abusive, balding fuckwad with a failed life, failed spirituality, no college degree and no friends except for a 20 something heroine addict?  *slow clap*  Yoga cures everything except for ignorance, male pattern baldness,  dyslexia, compulsive lying, and egotism.  Also, I never paid to sit at the feet of any “master”.  Real “Masters” don’t charge hundreds of dollars for the privilege.  Congratulations on being yet another American who bought into psuedo-spiritual bullshit.  Maybe if you had a college degree you might have learned about not being taken advantage of by false teachers if you took a class in anthropology, sociology, or psychology….

Speaking of terrible teachers: Hello random asshole who keeps coming up with Persian names and tries to befriend random other friends of mine who obviously accept every friend request- did you not know that I can see you created you account less than a week ago?   Remember that time you cried for 20 minutes because you realized I was smarter than you because you couldn’t understand an equation?  I never forgot it, and I cling to that memory like it’s a sapphire.

No matter how successful and cultured you appear to be, you KNOW there are at least 20 of your colleagues who know inside you’re “just a little girl on the inside.”  Freak.  It’s easy to be a misogynist when inside all you ever wanted was to be a lady!   The best part is the fear inside you feel knowing I could have sued the shit out of you- but chose not to….AND deleted all 400+ emails of our correspondences so I never had to look at your lies ever again.  Yes, apparently,  I am a “decent” person.  However, I learned cruelty from you.  Remember me during your next plastic surgery- no doubt you are still attempting to “fix” your face- It has been said by a real Sufi friend we both know that you were cursed with your ailment as a warning others about your duel nature, aka “being two-faced”.

BTW- you could save thousands just by an eyebrow waxing.  No one gave a shit about your squint- but the unibrow is epic.

…or you could just be that little girl acquaintance that thought that her opinion meant something to me; sorry sweetcheeks. I laughed when you got dumped publicly on facebook and the fake-British accent doesn’t make you any brighter.

Oh, wow- another Lokian/Lokien with pictures of Loki all over their facebook- account created less than a week ago and friends with no one I know….or friends with just random public Heathen figures.  Hi stalkers!  Welcome to my facebook which I use as a tumbler- and look at my journal which I post nothing I wouldn’t tell a random stranger.  Upset that I don’t mention you by name?  Upset that I don’t give a shit about your little clubhouse mentalities?  Sorry, I lost track after four of you.

Sorry, but I don’t buy into “white pride” when the Japanese and Chinese have outstripped European culture technologically since the get go.   Keep your little rumours and intrigues- you have nothing else except failed attempts at trying to be an authority.  Christ, even Silver Ravenwolf wrote books and has some notoriety, what have you done that has any lasting impact other than make a first impression you can’t back up?

Hi cult leaders, criminals, and former lovers.  Nope, not taking anything back.

Oh wow- and hello to the people who were in love with my former fiancee who created such epic lies that you got yourself either laughed out of a community….or now look like a disgusting anorexic grue in karmic retaliation.   How’s that unhappy relationship of yours, anyway?  Fun tip: Maybe if you ended the relationship you were in, then MAYBE you might have had a chance at starting a new one.  No one wants to be second fiddle you self-entitled fucksacks.

Yeah, so- I’m a panpolytheist- and I decided that limiting myself to one pantheon just isn’t me…. sorry folks.   Also, for the record- the sum total of my life does not exist in this blog.

Oh, and for the hell of it- hello abusive schizophrenic bitch.  Nope, still no interest in seeing you as a human being- because you aren’t.  My memories of you consists of staring at your rotting teeth, stench of blood and body odor covered liberally with Victoria Secret or “Eternity” cologne as you screamed nonsense at me and me kicking you repeatedly as you made several attempts on my life.

I don’t dance, but when you die, (and I hope it’s before me) I will dance on your grave- if anyone bothers to buy you one.   Most likely, you will be creamated, scattered somewhere, and I will be holding a party bigger than my goddamn wedding to celebrate your death.   Congratulations at failing at college, life, and parenthood.   May you be reincarnated as a cloud of gnats or a stray dog outside of restaurant in rural China.

As for the tea-partying elderly crowd:  Keep trying to reach for validity- your lives were “made” by nothing but luck, and you know it.

As for “family” who I did not friend on facebook who may be reading this: Wow.  You are assholes.  I guess you want me to feel bad I have some happiness in my life as your lives crumble.  Oops.  My bad.  I don’t like you either.

Did this post just piss you off?  Then congratulations, stalker- you have just been called out.   Guess what? I also don’t care enough about you to read your stuff in return.  Isn’t it frustrating to know that you are wasting time on me when I really could care less if you exist individually but yet know who most of you are?

BTW- the reason we are having a Pennsylvania Dutch Wedding?  Because BOTH of us are Pennsylvania Dutch and both are decedents of known brauchers… are YOU?  My ancestors are the Hildebrandts… Outside of the Pa Dutch, I’m Vanic Lettish and my fiancee is a descendant of Hans Christian Anderson, THE man who single-handedly preserved much of our old “European Heritage” of oral traditions into popular children’s stories.

It’s fun when the racists out there can’t even figure out who has a “pedigree” and who does not…. and yet, we aren’t racist like some of you Heinz 57 idiots.  Intellectual elitists, sure…. but damn, just try and insult our distant backgrounds and see how far it gets you- Hitler actually saved the Latvian half of my family, some of you would have been in the ovens for your genetics no matter how loudly you say “Seig Heil!”…  Keep on reaching for that non-existent “white unicorn”- you Nazitru fucks 🙂

My grandfather was in the SS and I will openly share a horn on camera with a Mexican, African, or any other non-European  before I would share it with another “White pride” idiot.  Race does not exist-and all of us came from Africa if you go back far enough- unless you are clearly trying to claim pure Neanderthal lineage.

…In that case, more power to you.  I will be happy to call you Neanderthals, it’s a fitting for your outdated and primitive intellects and group-think idealogies.  Find yourselves a nice cave to wall up in for the non-existent race war you want to incite- and smear Obama’s name in shit on the walls for all I care.  Find yourself a pair of cow horns, wear them as a hat, and then play “viking”.  Let me know how your raid on Denmark goes after you attack with your fleet of rusted canoes and plastic kayaks.

To bitch our choice of wedding ritual is like saying it’s awful for a Russian couple to have a Russian Orthodox wedding, or to complain for Jewish people to sing “Hava Nigila” at their own weddings.

The only reason I am posting this is because I find it FASCINATING that my fiancee and  I are are such a topic of conversation.

Have a nice life….or don’t… because I don’t follow you…but Ed did until this weekend. 🙂

Three Tiers: Wedding plans

Posted in About me, Justice, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on May 29, 2013 by Tyrienne

Adriaen van Utrecht | Vanitas Still-Life with a Bouquet and a Skull

Warning: This blog post is likely longer and more boring than most I have written up until this point.  Real life often is.

After what felt like an hour of scrubbing, I have almost removed all that remains of the surgical tape that attached a heart monitor to me for 24 hours.  Man, that sucked-  however, I get to “enjoy” this ritual all over again tomorrow after my stress test on the treadmill.  More tape, more monitors….followed by my very first appointment with a real internist in several years where I get to drop a lifetime of medical history and subsequent legal paperwork on the poor soul to fill out on the first day I ever lay eyes on him.  La-de-da.

These are the hoops to jump through to get a single pill/surgery/whatever that will get my pulse from that of a hummingbird to a human…and yet, blood pressure remains corpse-like.   It’s been awkward; I have several specialists, but have not had an official “doctor” coordinating everything like most people in years.  So, instead of sending all the results in advance-I thought it would be wise to meet with the man first before he receives an onslaught of results from dozens of tests from all over Pennsylvania from every known type of specialist.

I have not met him, but I sincerely hope he is nice, intelligent, and has a sense of humour.   I was told he does have experience with cases like me-  however, most cases “like me” don’t usually have one day every few weeks of unusual competence nor steady spousal support resulting in remaining “on top” of the pile of endless tests, justifications, and prescriptions required to keep further deterioration at a minimum.  That, and I have religion  which allows for plenty of Deus ex Machina to cover me when I am barely treading water.

Good thing our last ritual was to healing Goddesses… Hail Mengloth and Eir, right? 🙂

So, it’s been an excitingly frustrating 7 days-
On the bright side, I was allowed to keep the “Time” magazine from the phlebotomy office at Quest Diagnostic which had the article on the second man to teach me Sufism via his students, as “One of the World’s 100 most influential people.”  This is the same man who taught me that any person who demands your respect deserves it the least. I was awestruck- and now have an answer for the wishful yoga “Guru” (Capital “G”, yo’.) who wanted my supplication and obedience to his ridiculous and under-researched take on Hinduism since he “sat at the feet of the wisest yogi’s on the planet…”

Krishna is NOT a pacifist.  I suggest the Bhagavad Gita as a resource considering the majority of the text refers to Krishna addressing his friend, Arjuna about the necessity of war.  I learned that in college from many religion courses… not from some mansion-living asshole wearing a burlap sack and ripping off rich Americans with more money than sense, and not enough book readin’ to know better.

Okay, asshat- My teacher was in “Time” magazine….was yours, Mr. Abusive, anorexic, autistic, paranoid, no-degree, vegan, pretentious, parent-funded jackass? 🙂

Also= I’m not a Hindu.,

(The urge to contact this character to say: “Bow to me, lowly peon…!”  exists, but just the satisfaction of this information is more than enough to humour me)

Our personal practices have become more interesting in the past few weeks as we seem to escape any and all boundaries or commonality with what people expect of us.   We have become frustrated that the most exciting things in our religious practices are likely to be the least understood; yet at the same time- we find ourselves surrounded by so many unhappy people that we both had to learn that we cannot please everyone, accept everyone, and be beholden to everyone.  Time is precious, spend it wisely on what you can influence positively.  Remove from your life what makes you unhappy, uncomfortable, and what does not bear fruit.-  This I learned years and years ago from a Native shaman who read me at another faire.  “Know when to hold them, know when to fold them, and let fields lie fallow when they don’t grow corn.”

I must say though- getting a Ouija board made by a Floridian priest out of Haitian wood decorated with tarot cards around the edges was the most interesting purchase made…. and also, the object in particular is 1/20 in the entire world, blessed, and works well.  We managed to channel a rather sarcastic author my fiancee is partial to who offered hysterical answers to our questions-
As well as indicating my dead grandpa was also in the room…by referring to him as “The Nazi”.
“Why would you say such a thing about him?”  We asked,
“Hello! Because He is”.  (Grandpa was temporarily in the SS during WWII- but defected to the British secret service) If you want an idea of what’s going on- check out Ed’s new blog Here.

Basically, to sum up Ed’s blog we have both lived lives where we have been extraordinary push-overs in attempting to please everyone, and we are currently working on rewriting both of our priority sets to honor ourselves more, care less about the games and dramas of others, and learn to discern where and when we can contribute the most good to the world and when to gracefully bow out and do our own thing.  Making everyone happy was making us anti-social and resentful.  It was time to take some of ourselves back for our own good.

Heathenly speaking: Nauthiz has been in full swing as my fiancee and I found ourselves forced to make concrete decisions regarding wedding plans.  I visited a psychic last week for a reading who gave better advice than my current therapist- basically, that even as the shell of a “Type A” personality- I need to learn flexibility and that if something isn’t going the way I envisioned, it is not to say all is lost- but rather, there are possibilities I was likely not aware of that will come to pass and to allow more competent and willing parties to take charge.  Which is exactly what occurred.

Every altar was given at least one new gift of a stone, candle, or both- including a huge terminated, irradiated smokey quartz on my fiancee’s main altar- some smaller black quartz  and blue Bornite for Tyr,  A citrine/quartz and a handful of Bornite for Loki.  An Amethyst raven for The Morrigan, a natural, jewelers quality quartz for Anubus, and Zinc quartz for the Gentleman’s Altar of Freyr/Janis and Cernunnos…. all with fresh, new candles….including refilling our box of tealights for the ailing, dead, and those who request honest, legitimate help from us.

The candle for the patron of our relationship has been lit off and on for days-  it might surprise some to know that it is Freyr we look to for relationship issues rather than any Rokkr.  We as a couple remain remarkably stable- however, the process of life regarding the wedding “clicking” into place around us needed a “spark” of discontent in our wedding plans- we had to defend our religious practices to another, which then triggered a chain affect of solidifying a much more complicated and satisfying wedding arrangement than even I imagined beforehand.

So- my idea of the picnic is the woods is still going to work; we have confirmed Ed’s favorite park with pavilion space enough for food and the possibility of rain.  Furthermore, in letting go of my innate habit of being the “planner” in the relationship-  Ed created a beautiful 3-tiered wedding process that never would have crossed my mind that solves a series of problems I was struggling to accommodate.

First, since we have to get our license from the state anyway, he wanted a private judge-wedding with just family followed by a nice dinner at the beginning of the month.  This way, we can take advantage of the next 10 days he has off for a honeymoon that is technically “real”….including some light day trips to places like the Mutter Museum and possibly Salem or New York.

Since we are doing this all ourselves- the day before our actual Braucher- officiated wedding; we are having a get together lunch with whomever wishes to join us at a Scottish restaurant near the majority of my friends the Saturday before- a sort of cross between the idea of a bachelor/ette party and rehearsal dinner….followed by an evening of cards against humanity and take-out cuisine for the evening as those out-of-towners and people who wish to help set up for the “big” thing stay overnight at our apartment if they want to.   Then, Sunday- as I get my hair done, (and possibly nurse my hangover) the men set up in the morning, then at 2pm we have a  family friendly picnic, Heathen ceremony- and at the end of the evening, whomever is left to help with clean up comes back to our apartment for sumbel, in the midst of all of our altars, our cats, and all the blessings one can want.

So, right now, I am waiting on the judge to call me back to confirm the first week of July for the “legal-ease” wedding, set up a hair appointment for the 28th, and now- I am looking for a cheap florist to provide a bouquet or two… as well as good, sturdy flowers to wear in my hair.  Looking at bulk prices, it appears miniature blue carnations and baby’s breath sent via some online site are currently the front runners.  20 bucks for 50 stems of each.  Not bad.

Still need to purchase shoes, a slip, and next week- my fiancee’s Scottish regalia.  The wax mold for our rings will be seen on June 22- then fabricated that week.  And I have learned that even a “simple” wedding still takes planning, time, and slightly more money than expected.

I also discovered my former roommate from over a year ago was apparently attempting to claim food stamps under my name- leaving me with a thousand dollar reimbursement to contest. (which I am not concerned about-I have a copy of my lease proving my residence here in THIS county)   I am beginning to seriously consider purchasing a small filing cabinet for our Tyr (Ziu) altar- since all my paperwork regarding “justice”, “injustice”, and anything “government” hath started running over…

I agree with the Christians when their book stated “Give what is Caesar’s unto Caesar.”  Meaning- let all political/government/legal matters be entirely separate from the rest of life whenever possible.  Tyr has been generous with guidance and help on these things, so I have faith Justice will be done.

So, our cake and our wedding will be three-tiered- but nine separate cakes for each realm of Norse.  We have done our best to minimize butt-hurt in this way and we have also learned that dealing with either religious politics or my family politics is exactly like a game of RISK:  By the time you have the board set up properly, you realize you have no desire to actually play the game.

So, I’m not going out of my way to contact extended family except very minimally, the same goes for anyone else estranged on either side, or religiously speaking- if they show up, they will be expected to be on their best behavior lest they be promptly removed by my brother’s friends who would enjoy the privilege.   My brother, sister-in-law, and best friends along with Ed’s family get their “Specialness” with the court wedding…(since there was possibility of offense being taken by not having attendants or a special “family” part some people love so much)…and We still get to have our religious Heathen celebration…

…and hopefully, the medical issues will be resolved in that time as well; one problem will be solved at least- in July, under new insurance, I will get to see my old therapist again who was better trained on my issues- which will very much help minimize any terror at the idea of a large crowd on the 28th.

So- need to hear back from the judge, make hair appointments for the two of us for the first week of July still, buy the Kilt/Highland shirt combo for my man, buy shoes and a slip, figure out where to get a garter and bouquet, and I think that’s about it….other than dollar store streamers to mark our pavilion as “Taken”.

Since so many of our friends are LGBTQ- Ed will be wearing the garter and throwing the bouquet- Bi/pansexuals reading this:  Pick ONE to go for.   The result of who-catches-which could end up anywhere from “typical” to awkwardly hilarious. 🙂

However, after the chaos of being accepted then rejected from location to location- I think the end solution turned out to be the best solution-  all I needed to do was let go and allow my fiancee the confidence to figure out solutions to problems that vexed me.  I’m not used to being with someone equally to more competent than myself:  But if he wasn’t, I wouldn’t be marrying him.

Weddings are usually the dominion of the “woman”-  after years of self analysis, I should have known that if it’s the domain of the “woman” I am likely the least equipped for the task out of anyone to attempt to navigate such waters.

I am willing to pimp Ed out as a wedding planner by the way- he’s remarkably good at creating elegant, clever,  and complex solutions… just pay him for his time.

That is for another post;  when to know when people are taking advantage of you for things they should be paying you for but don’t….