A Wizard of Sorts.

On Friday, my brother and I went around to all of the houses I have lived in. I remember one time asking my mother about one place where we lived that I had thought that I did not remember, but apparently I had, through dreams. The first place, I would not remember from the outside, but the inside, I would remember well, which apparently I did, based on my mother's memory.

And of all the things I've thought, I remember her - not my mother's - words: "You are a wizard. Those are Wizard staffs, you're a wizard."

In way, I feel I am. I always seek those like me, but of course, I never seem to get out of the service part of it. Being a real wizard, with the power of the universe, isn't all spells. It's service, to our own kind, to help it out of the great pain it's in, to dream and give hope. If I don't have hope, if I can't imbue hope, then what chance do we ever have to have to live?

I cannot deny that I can touch minds, that I can help the dead. I also cannot deny that I can see the future, the past of people, and will try to help them accordingly, despite all odds. I struck out with a magic that didn't understand, and I got hit with a magic I didn't understand. I can't describe to you that feeling. But I want to be involved with it again, and I know there's others like me out there, and I want to meet them. I know they exist in my family, and soon enough, my brothers will know. But they are young. I like giving guidance to the young. It is, as they say, my forte.

I hope something comes along that I can help with. Because that's my branch, the service of others, of connected love, threads in our universe.

Must. Resist. Drunk. Dial.

No one is entitled to my thoughts, and I must not act a like a petulant 3 year old when I cannot share them. Mine, and mine alone.

She will have a girl, because she was surprised.

And I feel like an asshole, willing to compromise my feelings to have a child. I am an asshole.

Is there no one to love? Is there no partner in crime?

I guess not...*sigh*

A Very Ridiculous Day.

So, I went into the dentist today. I was under the impression that it was just a casting of my teeth for the cap that they have to place on the tooth that had the Root Canal From Hell. Now, why on earth would I get that impression? I mean, both when I made the appointment as well as when they called to remind me, I was told it was just a casting.

But today was Monday, that magical day of such delight and wonder. So instead of 40 minutes, it was a an hour, and they placed a temporary cap on my tooth. It was 9:35 when I left the dentist...and I was already late for work. Of course, even with the snow, I'm only 5 minutes away, and will be there rather soon, you think?

Of course not. Why would it work out that way? It was, of course, Monday.

On my way to work, there was construction, complete with a guy holding a sign that had "slow" and "stop" on it (and as I approached, guess which side I got...), as well a truck parked across the two lane street, a slow-moving bus, then an ambulance, and an accident at the largest intersection.

A five minute drive took 20 fucking minutes.

Ah, Monday. And don't get me started on all of the douchebags that I got on my phone today....

Please let my prediction come true.

The vision is that my sister-in-law was surprised by the pregnancy, and has a girl. And after talking with her at length, she was very surprised that she's pregnant.

The other is the dream/vision with being with B. I'd like for that to come true, but it doesn't necessarily have to be. All I want is someone who is not afraid of dancing in a bar, even when no one else is. I had that, for a moment, with Guy Who I Chickened Out On Seeing. I'd hope to see him again, tell a little white lie, and get in his good graces again. Dinner, sushi bar, the one in Mequon. I'm not keen on Saki, but will try - I'm smoker, so alcohol deadens the taste buds even further, so I'll be inclined to skip it. A nonalcoholic evening. Sounds nice.

I am just tired of being alone in this universe.

The conversation that I was kicked for?

"Well, if the ghost appears again, just tell it to go away. People who are dead used to be human and living, you know, so really, just let them know that you're tired. If we're talking about older times, you could get away with visiting when it's rude. Victorians were big on that. 'You're being rude, and I'm sleeping' would be good...." It was a conversation on how to make the ghosties go away. And for that I suffered a punishment not fit for a wizard.

The magic person saw my drawings..."You are a wizard!" she said. Well, yes, I have a staff. And I kicked someone's butt. She knew what I was talking about. What she didn't know was the part about "Oh? So you think you have power? EAT THE IRAQI. Oh, yes, this bomb-charred flesh you eat. Why? Because you and your ilk think it's AWESOME. And because of that, you should eat dead Iraqi." They threw up, they choked, and suddenly, the war is the most unpopular thing here in this country.

I got counter hit with magic. If it had not happened to me, I would not believe it. But it did. The counter hit was very strong, and I actually managed to pull symbols from my attack. I know who did it, and backtracking, I know who I hit.

But in this, it confirms a few things that I've been wondering that I know.

I know there's some kind of Association of Wizards. I always see them, but they don't let me in. I don't know why. Am I unpolished? Female? What? I don't know. Is it my unconventional use of magic? NO IDEA. I do not know if I was trained by an actual Wizard, and turned out to be extrawizardy or if I was trained outside of our own planet. I'm more inclined to think way more Wizard than most, that it's terribly natural and I always fall back on it, but it could be damn near otherworldly.

I feel ghosts. They are always there, my guardians and protectors, the dead, demon or not. And anyone who is willing to marry me has to know this. That I have an otherworldly knowledge of things, and to listen to me when I say so. Because I know what I'm talking about.

There's two men who've listened to me in that state: Ron, and B.

I hope that there's more than them. Because there's a ghost inside me who wants to say I'm sorry, but it doesn't mean I'm sorry....

I was writing on here more often, but then I slacked off. Heh, funny how it is, staring at my shelf and thinking, "You know, I really want to rewatch all of B5 again."

I am now in the second season.

That means, less writing here. But, it has given me a few ideas for my book, kind of a renewed purpose for where I ultimately want my characters to end up, what I want them to go through, how I want them to interact. I had some idea before, but now I'm more clear on it. Hopefully, it'll spur me to write more than the 8 pages I have.

We'll see.

And hopefully, my sister-in-law will have a girl this time, if the pregnancy sticks.

I now have only half the wisdom I had...two upper wisdom teeth removed today!

WOO HOO!

Now, most people don't like teeth being pulled. And if there wasn't such a thing as Novocaine, I would not want my teeth pulled either. However, the two upper wisdom teeth had come in, and I needed them removed. And it was so much better than the last time that I had a tooth pulled. I love my dentist, he's so cool, and he listens when I start doing my distress gargle. Apparently, one side of my mouth needs more Novocaine than the other. The only creepy thing is that I heard one of my wisdom teeth being pulled. Heard that fucker sliding right out of its spot. *shudder*

I am now on painkillers, and it is awesome!

Today I was thinking of an exceptionally intelligent yet brutal post that I wrote about Mr. Trenchcoat. I don't think that I saved it here, but I did write it on myspace. I almost wish I had kept it, but I deleted it because I'm just so totally over what happened.

Except I'm not.

I'm afraid to date again. And I don't mean the typical, "Oh, what if he doesn't like me!" kind of afraid. I'm truly terrified - "What if he hits me?". Given what I said to B earlier, I want to say, "Yes, I may have drunkenly gone overboard, but I've had hell the past few years, so please forgive my wacky desperateness. Don't think that because I like you that much, I will actually date you, because the thought terrifies the fucking baby Heebus out of me." Every time I think of it, I tense up and feel frightened. What if I date a guy for a while and then he hits me? I didn't leave the last time, will I have enough courage to do so this time? Or, like before, will I pretend that it didn't happen even though I was in excruciating pain and should have gone to the hospital to see if there was permanent damage? I don't want that in the realm of possibility when I date someone, and you never know just by looking at a guy if he's going to do that. It was only that once, so I'm grateful for that, but it was no less scary. And now I get nervous just stating an opinion on anything. It doesn't require any extra thought for Mr. Trenchcoat, but for me, now I've got this permanent fear.

Oh, and the thing he kicked me for? A conversation I was having with someone else, having to do with ghosts, because I can occasionally feel them. I was "speaking with authority on something that doesn't exist" and he got mad at me. "I thought you were smarter than that." It didn't involve him, he just sat there doing some kind of calculations while drinking, and didn't join in the conversation with my friend. For that, when we got home from the bar and started arguing, I was kicked in the leg, hard enough to cause internal bleeding. I didn't see it coming, I was getting up to check on the pizza in the oven.

And then he would have the gall, after that, to get mad when I didn't speak up on anything. Or that he had to pry the thoughts out of my head, because fucking excuse me, it's not like I'd be encouraged after that to ever speak my mind again.

Thanks for that, fucker. My trust levels were high enough, now they're damn near impossible to get through.

Random Update: I did keep it!

Someone did a parody of "The Boy Is Mine" - I present to you, my imaginary readers, "The Slice is Mine".

Sometimes, the internet is an awesome thing.

Oh, alright, no wants me to drunk dial them, and I can't blame them.

I lied, B.

B, I know what I said before I blacked out, about if you get over her, please date me. And yes, it was a sales pitch. Because I like you that much. You have no idea, having to listen to shit, and still not be bitter about it. But I really can't be, because our relationship was never like that, though I wanted it to be. I'm totally serious, I really, really like you. I don't care how many crack whores you've had, or that you have family problems, or that people want to control you. If there's a good thing to be said about my family, we're working class, not snobs, and if you're doing something with your life, no one will hold it against you. The only requirement from you that my family will hold you to is that you treat me awesomely and make me laugh. Really. As long as you're good to me, you're good with my family, because we know what the fuck is important in life, and if you don't treat the Princess with the awesomeness she deserves, you aren't worth the time - and they won't hesitate to tell you that. Or me, if they feel that they can't be that straight forward with you. Seriously, do you not know how awesome life with me would be? Especially at this moment in my life, where I've shared the worst that could happen to a person - a baby born only to die - with my sister (-in-law, which is a technicality) and my brother. Life is what it is.

I have moments of psychoneuroses, but really, I'm much more on an even keel than I've ever been - you met me when I was dealing with hardship - and you didn't see me when I was dealing with the worst of my depression. That person you knew years ago really did have issues that since...well, not resolved, but better. I know when it will be bad, and I can warn people, and it's not horrible now, like it was before. As long as there are lines of communication open, I will be fine. Most of my troubles with Mr. Trenchcoat was that he sorely lacked in the communication department. But if we talk, I will always be okay. And if Doting Uncle doesn't like that, well, I have to deal with douchebags on a frequent basis, so that doesn't bother me. Remember The Artist? I can speak their language. They'll see me as smart-but-dumb. And I'm okay with that.

It's all in the perception, baby.

Marry me?

Pipe dreams...if they would only come true!

This is Awesome:



Updated: Ok, so I can't stop watching this. I have the compulsion to view it several times a day, I still laugh my ass off at it. Every. Single. Time. So I thought I'd put a poem that wrote long ago to go with it:

Ode to Love
Love - thy devil's name
Curse the hearts of wicked and tame
One mortal's soul hungers for the other
The other, repulsed, slinks away in horror
And Cupid's heart-wrenching lance
Causes Love to kill by chance.
And Satan, in attractiveness,
Fools mortals with "Eternal Bliss".
The deep, dank, dark pit of Love,
Swirling above it, vultures like doves,
Waiting for those words-turned-lies,
Scrape and pick out Aphrodite's eyes.
Beauty, skin deep and vain,
Showers them in flaming rain.
The heart is red, that's no mistake,
As blood forms at lovers' feet a lake.
The mortal, thinking all is good,
Will end up demon's worship food,
While angels play marionette with feelings,
And the soul itself trusts, revealing
Past hurts and hates that want revenge,
Cupid, a bloody smile, says "Avenge".
And Love sets up another trap
For some other pathetic helpless sap.