25 October 2010

Shout-Outs and Quiz Results

"Shape Shifter" by Diane Elizabeth Stanely
I found some time this morning during my off-hours to catch up on some of the blogs I follow, and I’d like to highlight a few entries that caught my eye. First and foremost, I almost completely agree with Fire Lyte’s take on the current controversy over The Lost Abbey’s beer label. Read, think, then respond, people. It’s an attack on Catholicism, not Paganism. As always, Hecate’s beautiful writing brought an insightful wisdom to a topic I would have otherwise not even considered. And finally, I took a little quiz.

According to this quiz, I have psychic leanings in, well, pretty much every area of psychic-ness. Never thought that was a potentiality. In fact, having always associated psychic abilities with ESP and talking to spirits of the dead, I never thought I had any “psychic” leanings at all. Nevertheless, this quiz categorized other talents as parts of being psychic, so by their definitions, it made a little more sense. It was a neat little quiz, although I’d say it was definitely *not* without biases and potential for error. There was no accounting for how often these talents manifested, and of course, it’s impossible to eliminate quiz-taker bias. Basically, you read all the questions, and then recorded the number of the questions for which you answered yes, then there were explanations of the numbers you scored. I answered yes to all but three of the questions, but sometimes my “yes” was a qualified one, as in “once or twice I may have felt this way,” especially in those questions pertaining to medium/empathy. My results were as follows:

Empath: 3/5
Channeler: 4/4
Medium: 5/6
Shaman: 5/5

My personal practice has almost always leaned in a Shamanic direction, blending techniques from my various cultural heritages (to include Celtic, Germanic, and a smidgeon of Native American) and finding what works best for me. I love the smell of cedar and sage and sweetgrass, individually and in blends, and burning incense (particularly amber, although I use a lot of forest based scents, too) is integral to my entering trance states during meditation. I haven’t had a sufficient block of undisturbed time in a while to get into any good trances, and furthermore the burning of incense is generally discouraged in my building, so my next big adventure into Shamanism will likely wait until Samhain. In a nutshell, scoring 5/5 on all the Shaman questions was not a surprise to me. Based on the quiz’s definition of Channeling, I suppose I lean that way as well, especially since the definition closely corresponded with those talents I associate with an ability to employ Shamanic techniques. However, what really surprised me was scoring even at all in the Empath and Medium categories.

First of all, I’m not a particularly sensitive person. It kinda goes along with being more or less entirely self-absorbed…I don’t exactly tune in to others’ feelings very often or very well. That said, there are some individuals who I am innately linked with, and I can read their emotions from a mile off and be able to sense them instantly when they’re around. Thus, combining the quiz score—as the directions suggested, I answered all the questions based on my gut instincts and without thinking about it too much—with my sensitivity to certain people (my brothers, cousins, and some friends) leads me to believe that perhaps I do have some latent empathic abilities, but that at an early age, I built up walls to keep people out. Perhaps I built up too many walls, because I really do feel out of touch with most people’s motivations and emotions, but certain ones I can read like a book, and even feel their pain and sorrow and happiness almost as if it were my own. I do distinctly remember being a child and being overcome by emotions all the time; perhaps I was more empathic then, until I learned how to subconsciously guard myself, and then those guards became so integral to who I am now, that I forgot about them. That is, after all, the nature of the subconscious. This would also account for my ability to let those guards down with the people I trust, allowing me to trace their energies and emotions. I don’t even know how these guards drop, only that, perhaps, that’s the explanation for it.

As for my being a medium? Ok, once or twice I thought I saw a ghost, and deceased friends and relatives periodically reach out to me through dreams or when I’m meditating, and maybe once in a blue moon I’ll feel a presence near me apart from that of my familiars, guardians, and deities with whom I’m working. However, I’m far from The Sixth Sense, and I HIGHLY doubt that I could hold a successful séance or reach out to someone beyond the veil if they were not actively reaching out to me at the same time. Animals are generally drawn to me, not ghosts.

Regardless, it was definitely a neat quiz, and one I’d recommend taking mostly for fun rather than any serious method of discovering your talents. It did make me think a little more about what I can and cannot do, and areas I could explore more in depth; however, I feel that looking deep within yourself, your heart, your soul, is a much truer and more successful means of determining where your abilities and talents may lie. While you can use a quiz or questionnaire or similar method as a spring board for further thought, it certainly should not be the sole basis of your determination. Those are just my thoughts. Happy *almost* Samhain :)

19 October 2010

Potential Hiatus. Don't Be Alarmed.

Happy fall! We have one of these lovely, orange gourds
in our room for the season.  Picture from here.
Just a heads up: I’m not sure I’ll be able to post much in the upcoming weeks. I have several things coming to a head. First and foremost, my Russian skills are finally getting a refresher. One of my friends, whom I hung out with when I was in Russia for a semester last year, is staying with me for three weeks. For the sake of the blog, and in keeping with my newly founded tradition of mythologically renaming people I discuss here, we’ll call her Rusalka. She is, after all, from Russia, and she reminds me a lot of those water-nymph-maiden-huntress types. Rusalka’s English is almost nonexistent, but she’s still accompanying me to my classes and various other activities; thus, I’m constantly playing translator. While it’s a little overwhelming for the both of us, it feels good to have a dictionary sewn to my side constantly again. Since I already completed all of my Russian credits last year, I had nothing to justify my knowing the language this year until yesterday afternoon when we picked up our friends at the airport. However, it means my time is no longer my own. I have to keep her entertained, after all.

In addition to playing translator/tour guide/comedian for the next three weeks, my “band” also has a gig in two weeks. We know our song lineup, but we’ve still yet to practice all together with drums and bass. The other guitarist and I have gotten together a few times, but we hadn’t had our song list finalized until later. I’ve been memorizing song lyrics and printing out tabs like it’s my job lately, but of course all of that got brushed aside once I found out I was hosting one of the Russians. So yeah. Swamped on all accounts. And don’t even get me started on my never-lightening academic load. I think I have two papers due this week alone, neither of which is started yet, as well as a Nuclear Engineering problem set due Friday. It never ends.

Thus, the blog may or may not end up on hiatus until November, and some semblance of stability, peace, and normalcy has returned to my life. If I get a moment to write, I will. If I don’t, I apologize in advance. My Samhain celebration is likely going to be very sparse and very rushed this year.

Oh, and my cousin is getting married on Halloween. No big deal. I’m super pumped. On that note, have a good October, and hopefully you’ll hear from me again this month. Blessed be.

15 October 2010

Butterflies and Battleaxes

"Circe" by Wright Baker
I’ve been doing some research since I had the dream of the stone woman with the battleaxe, and as I suspected, there’s a lot of historical/mythological precedence for what I saw in my dream. The earliest references to women with battleaxes I could find traced back to Paleolithic cave drawings of a Mother Goddess figure holding a double-headed axe, also called a labrys, which was about 2000 years prior to a double-headed axe ever actually being constructed (that we are aware of, anyway). Then, in Sumeria, a similar Mother Goddess often depicted with a double-headed axe was worshiped, with the axe coming to represent—through its symmetry and similarity in shape to the butterfly—feminine powers of transformation, renewal, rebirth, et cetera. Next reference to an axe-bearing goddess was that worshiped by Minoans and later the Mycenaeans, and who was likely the antecedent of Circe, the island goddess who transformed Odysseus’ men into swine. I always did love that story. So. I guess I know what my ‘C’ was from. Circe.

I’ve got some more meditating to do this weekend, it would so appear.

After my research, I came to a few teensie conclusions regarding my dream and its potential meaning. First off, I am basically on the right path, but I pretty much knew that already. You can only draw so many Star, Sun, and Chariot cards before the message starts to sink in. I swear at least one of those three comes up in every reading I’ve ever drawn for myself, regardless of what I ask. Secondly, while I’m heading basically in the right direction, I need to focus a little more on the regenerative and healing properties of Water. All of the rain, I think, was a sign that I need more Water-influence in my life to balance out the Earth and Fire in me. As for the bike riding, it surprised me that in my dream I felt so comfortable with it, despite the bad weather. I’m terrified of riding a bike. Ever since I broke my arm riding one, or rather falling off it after my third-grade self wondered what would happen if she hit both brakes simultaneously while riding really fast down a steep hill (answer: fly over the handlebars, get knocked out for a few minutes, wake up 15 feet in front of the abandoned bike in the middle of the road with a broken arm and profusely bleeding chin), I’ve just never been able to bring myself to get back on one. I’m too scared I’ll fall again. In general, I became a lot more cautious after that incident. Don’t get me wrong, I love cliff diving and all sorts of adrenaline rushes, but I will not be the first to jump unless I’m absolutely certain the water is deep enough at the bottom. Calculated risks. That’s what I take. Bikes? No longer included in that category. Incidentally, neither are serious relationships. And that’s what I think my riding a bike in my dream, not once but twice, was a call to do: get over some of my fears. Jump in the water, not knowing about the depth. Grow up. Let go. Move on.

This also wasn’t the first dream narrated by a calm, male voice. I’m pretty sure it’s been the same voice in all the dreams, which I find interesting. There was one in which I was sneaking through a medieval-esque city, and the voice was telling me where to hide and which roads to take. Then there was another dream in which I was giving birth in what felt like a past life, and the voice was reminding me that I had to protect my child, because the village feared witchcraft and would try to take my baby. I remember seeing my husband then, and he smiled, and I knew everything would work out. Oh, dreamland. How I love you (says the girl who tends to only have ridiculous, adventure filled dreams).

Obviously much of the dream was merely a product of my unconscious brain digging up things that had been on my mind lately, one of them likely being my friend Apollo who appeared in the forest section. In my political philosophy class, we’ve been reading a lot of classical writing, some of which I once translated from Latin into English back in high school. Thus, I’ve been reminded a lot this whole semester about Latin classes and high school, and Apollo took four years of Latin with me. We were always in the same class for it, and were usually translating buddies. Thus, I’ve been reminded of him even more than usual as we do talk pretty regularly, so I’m pretty sure that accounts for the parts of the dream where I was in high school or talking to him.

Thus ends my dream analysis. Enjoy your weekend! I’m sure I’ll enjoy mine.

12 October 2010

Rain, Forest, Friend, Goddess

"Bike in the Rain" by Brenton Salo
As promised, what follows is a narrative of my dream last night, with one of the more obviously random and unrelated portions removed (it was a somewhat uncouth section), and with the name of a very real person changed. He’s a very close friend with whom I grew up, and still see every time I go home, and talk to at least weekly. For the sake of this blog, he will forever after be known as Apollo. Now, without further ado, let’s begin. Welcome to my dreamland.
The first thing I remember, I was back in high school, and I was picking out an outfit for school that day. I was looking specifically at a pair of earrings, fashioned from one big, stout, cylindrical, light-blue bead each. They looked like they may have been chalcedony or aquamarine, but I knew that they were really glass. There was a necklace that matched the earrings, but it was a slightly different bead that hung from the chain as a pendant. It was more of a teardrop and less of an cylinder. This set of jewelry had some sort of significance to me, possibly a spiritual one, but I no longer remember what it was. It faded upon waking. I also remember looking at a white lace shirt with short sleeves. It was simple and elegant (not at all my normal style). Incidentally, I have never owned such earrings or such a shirt. But in my dream, my high school self did.
Then I remember riding a bike through the rain on my way to school, which never once happened. I haven’t ridden a bike since I was in the third grade. But, in my dream, I was riding one and I was taking the scenic route. I remember wishing I had taken my car instead, since I didn’t want my clothes to get wet. It was raining really hard, and I was also worried about the roads being too wet and that I was going to break my arm again, but I never fell. There were no cars on the road, just me and my bike.
Suddenly, it had stopped raining, and I was in a bright, sunny, and very green woods. The forest smelled like after a spring rain, and everything felt fresh and new and healthy and even magical. My friend Apollo was there, smiling, and dressed all in white. We were the same age as we are now, so he was more muscular than in high school, but his hair was longer like he used to wear it back then. I was wearing white, too, but a lacy dress this time instead of the shirt I had picked out earlier in the dream (which also, incidentally, I do not nor ever have owned). My hair was loose. We greeted each other, then I followed him deeper into the woods. I remember holding his hand as he helped me over a log.
After that, I remember riding a bike again, only this time I was on my way back from the lot where we park our cars during football games. It was very dark outside, and it was raining yet again. This time I wasn’t worried about the roads being slippery, although they were dark from the dampness, but I was worried about being caught out of uniform when working out and getting in trouble for it. Then I heard a calm male voice narrating about Afghanistan…and here’s where I’m cutting a section. It concerned bodily functions. I shall elaborate no further.
That same voice, however, began narrating another section, about a court case in which a young women had gone to visit her ancestor’s tomb, and there she found that other people had started burying men, who were not a part of her family’s lineage, in the same area. The young woman’s, or perhaps her ancestor’s, name started with a ‘C,’ but I can’t remember more than that now. Either way, the young woman had sued the people burying their dead in her ancestor’s memorial area, and had won, so the other caskets were supposed to have been removed.
This transitioned to me standing in a garden, looking a tomb with a stone effigy of a beautiful woman in flowing, ornate robes lying on top of it. There were tombs of men who I knew to have been soldiers scattered around her, and I think there was a living knight (although he wore no armor, he had that knightly quality about him) guarding her tomb. As I approached the tomb, the stone woman came to life and sat up so that she was reclining regally on the tomb like it was a cushioned bench. She held a huge battleaxe in her left hand like a scepter. Her hair was intricately dressed with lots of ringlets. She greeted me with a head nod, but I was nervous that she meant to kill me for trespassing on what was clearly her sacred realm., but she assured me that was not her intention and that the axe would cause me no harm. Instead she extended her hand to me, and I laced my fingers through hers. I felt like she was crushing my hand with her stone grip, and I winced, but when she released my hand, it was fine and didn’t hurt. Then she rested her heavy right hand on my left shoulder, but I stood firm even though it was a huge weight. She said that she was watching me, and that I will make her proud. I asked for clarification, because I was confused since I didn’t know who she was or why me, but she simply repeated, “I’m watching. I’ll be proud of you.” Then someone—I’m not sure if it was her, or the knight, or even me—asked, “Where were you last night?” All I heard in response to that was my alarm sounding, ironically with an answer of “California.” My alarm is currently set to Hollywood Undead’s song of the same title, and that’s the first word of the ring tone.


Picture from here. It seemed appropriate to me.
I'm beginning to wonder at the strange things my subconscious produces.

It's been months since I've dreamed anything worthwhile, and not remembering my dreams for so long tends to make me nervous. I try to record every dream that I remember upon waking, but as soon as I miss writing down one dream, they all fade to oblivion as soon as I open my eyes until Morpheus decides my head could use screwing with again, and suddenly I'm dreaming then waking up, saying, "What the hell happened in my brain last night?" This was one of those mornings. Morpheus went wild last night...although he had some help. As I said, I get nervous when it's been a while since I've remembered my dreams, so sometimes I'll give a little push. In this case, I just stuck an amethyst, some quartz, and the Moon tarot card underneath my pillow, laid my hands on them, and whispered a prayer for dreams to help shed some wisdom on my current path.

Evidently, it worked.

I haven't finished recording the dream just yet, but I did write down a sketch outline with key words to remind me of what happened in it so that when I have time later today, I can flesh it out in my dream journal. Once that is done, prepare for a nice narrative on how messed up my subconscious is. The best part was at the end. For a little taste to tide you over until I release the full story this afternoon: at one point I was conversing with a stone woman, who I'm pretty sure was supposed to represent an anscestor of mine.

More to follow.

11 October 2010

Weekend updates! And, finally, painted statues.

It was an eventful weekend for me, full of lots of accomplishments. First off, I got a tattoo. Secondly, I finally got around to painting the Wolf and Raven figurines, plus giving the Raven some feet so she can actually stand up. I also got in a good meditation Saturday nightnoFinally, I *mostly* finished the costume for Samhain!

My brother and I (not the autistic one, but the one who’s just two and a half years younger than I am) have been planning to get matching tattoos for a little over a year now. We’re both Military, and tattoos are thrown around like candy there, so it won’t be an issue career wise for either of us. Secondly, our whole family has always been very close, so we wanted a way to visibly cement that. We’re trying to get our parents to match us, too, and maybe our cousins…but small chance of that. My brother and I are the more adventurous ones of the family. It’s not very big, and it’s quite simple: just two lines of text in Latin, all lower case letters, and a sort of calligraphic script. The text says veneratio familiae, which means “family honor,” but veneratio also means reverence, respect, veneration, even worship. Furthermore (forgive me for entering linguistic nerd-mode again), the case ending on familiae is ambiguous, in that it can mean both honor as an aspect of the family and honor for the family. I love the different layers of meaning, all of which are hugely significant for us.

We just drove up to New Paltz with my running buddy, because it’s our favorite city in New York, and because we (my brother and I) wanted to make a day-trip of our tattoo getting. There’s a tattoo parlor along main street that I had been to before with my friends, although I didn’t get anything that time. We just walked in and scheduled an appointment for six that evening, explained what we wanted, and then came back right then to get our ink. I’m really happy with the way it turned out. I love my little tattoo, and I love what it represents! I’m glad my brother and I are close enough that we could do this. I don’t know many other siblings who would get matching tattoos just because they share blood. Now we share ink, too! He’s grown up into such a cool guy. I’m really proud of him.

My meditation was pretty simple, and I didn’t reach any profound insights into the universe, but it was nice just to take some time and commune by candlelight with my Deities. I just set up my altar, sat cross legged on a rug, and relaxed. I tried to do some scrying, but without much luck. At least, I have no idea what to make of what I saw. I have a labradorite sphere that I was looking into, but all I saw was an airport runway and then a woman in a hooded cloak, but I couldn’t see her face. My sphere is pretty tiny. I’m not very good at scrying—I have very little time to practice—so as far as interpretation goes, I’m at a loss. At least I saw something, though. That was pretty cool, and actually a first for me. Normally I just get to the cloudy part and then nothing. I did a tarot reading after that, as I can normally make more sense of the cards, but that was kinda jumbled as well so I just chalked it up to being not my night for clarity and went to bed. I had pretty random dreams after that, too, but nothing I could remember well enough the next morning to write down in my dream journal.

As for the statuettes, they are currently nestled on my shelf with Greg the Gargoyle, my collection of candles, my bags of gemstones, my tarot cards, and my mini-Pagan library. See the pictures below of the statuettes and the progress on the costume! It’s almost finished; I just need to get my hands on a zipper to complete the bodice part. I’m really happy with the way the skirt turned out (both of them). One is a burgundy velvet underskirt, and then there’s the “leather armor” outer skirt to be worn over that one. I’ll be wearing all of that with some big black lace-up punk boots, faux leather leggings, and a “wolfskin” cloak to keep warm, as temperatures here are never as warm as I’d like. Enjoy the pictures!

My little Raven and Wolf statuettes! Note the new and full moon "crystals."

07 October 2010

Word of the Weekend

First and foremost, I apologize for my lack of entries. It has, as always, been incredibly busy for me lately; thus, those voluntary activities of mine (such as music, art, free-writing, and yes, blogging) must take a back seat to all my non-voluntary requirements. Now, without further ado, here’s an update on my life:

This weekend brought a whole new dimension to my use of the word “fabulous.”

If you haven’t noticed yet, dear readers, it’s one of my favorite adjectives, and I’m not particularly sparing with it. Along with “fantastic,” and my preferred hybrid “fantabulous,” I’ll admit I have the tendency to exaggerate the awesomeness of things. However, this past weekend, I participated in an event which only one word can adequately describe, and for that word to be an adequate description, I must use it in the full extent of its scope of definition. Incidentally, that word is FABULOUS.

I participated this past Sunday morning in the inaugural Diva Race, a half-marathon hosted on Long Island exclusively for women (never mind the fact that the whole event was organized by a man). There was also a girls 5k run, but I ran with one of my roommates in the full 13.1 miles of cold, windy, roads through Eisenhower Park. I reached my goal pace—just barely broke 2 hours, which I’ll consider not bad for having not really trained nearly as much as I would have liked beforehand—which also was about 20 min faster than I ran the half-marathon split when I did the full 26.2 last May in New Jersey. Thus, I’m totally thrilled. I didn’t have to walk at all either! That was another of my goals.

Around mile-9, a little more than halfway there but right around the same time my knees started to complain and my hips decided to jump on board the painful bandwagon, I saw a hawk flying gracefully overhead, and I just knew that my Goddess was with me. I felt it. With an elated (and likely crazy-looking to those who could not hear inside my head) smile, I continued on to pick up my hot-pink feather boa and shiny silver tiara at mile-12 and finish the race. It was so inspiring to see all women out there, running, jogging, walking in honor of feminine pride and power…and yet the whole thing was organized by a dude. Pink, sparkly, happy goodies everywhere. Roses and champagne and hot firemen to hand us our super-blinged out medals when we crossed the finish line…and it was all put together by a bro. I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t.

Oh well. It was still a completely F-A-B-U-L-O-U-S weekend excursion, topped off by a fabulous trip to Outback Steakhouse with my roommate to make use of a gift-card my parents got me for my birthday a few months ago. Regretfully I never had a chance to use it before then! But free lunch is free lunch.

I’ll be taking an easy weekend starting tomorrow afternoon, and we have no classes on Monday, so I’ll be able to just run, rest, read, write, paint, sing, play my guitar, and do all those other FABULOUS things I never get a chance to do anymore. So. Fingers crossed, there should be a plethora of new entries this weekend to make up for the utter lack of writing this week…

01 October 2010

Sic Semper Tyrannis

Sic Semper Tyrannis.

Thus, always, for tyrants.

The Virginia state flag has long been one of my favorites, and not just because I was raised in the beautiful countryside of that commonwealth so historically significant to our nation’s founding. My state-riotic bias may play a part (I will admit I am likewise partial to cardinals, dogwoods, and Mae) but in fact, it is the symbolism emblazoned across the royal blue that resonates so strongly in my soul. The flag depicts a woman, who bears a striking resemblance to Athena with her spear and sword and Hellenic-styled helmet and robe. She stands proudly with her foot on the chest of a defeated tyrant, his crown lying useless beside his turned head. The emblem simply oozes liberty, freedom, equality, independence, resistance, rebellion. Note my escalation of force in that last sentence. Virginia is, indeed, for lovers, and it is for lovers of those values professed in the Declaration of Independence that established us as free and sovereign. Lady Liberty guides the tired, poor, and hungry to our shores with the torch of freedom. Lady Virginia, however, kicks tyranny’s ass.

Named, perhaps appropriately, for Queen Elizabeth I (the Virgin Queen), my home state also claims as her own such prominent and influential figures as Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and George Washington. Now, the War of American Independence is my favorite piece of Military history, and I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve always appreciated a good revolution, so again I ask you to keep my bias in mind as you read this.

Tyranny is everywhere. It taints the political systems of the world, no matter how free and liberal a government claims to be. There is no such thing as pure democracy; pure democracy would be pure chaos, and more akin to anarchy than anything else since the whim of the majority would crush minority opinion and since humans are wired such that whims can change at an alarming rate. We enjoy in America one of, in my humble and *somewhat* educated opinion, the best and most fair governments in political history. Overwhelming fear of monarchy--like that experienced in Rome following the replacement of the kings with a mixed republic--greatly contributed to this. Our founding fathers feared both the potential for too much power in the hands of one ruler, but also feared the potential for a tyranny of the majority (mob mentality). That’s why the US Constitution incorporates the splitting of power, checks and balances, and an emphasis on the maintenance of rights.

However, human nature reaches for more. We are the actors of the political sphere. We are the politicians, the advisors, the legislators and enforcers and deciders of all things policy. Each branch is always pushing the limits of its power to see how far the other two branches, and especially how far the common people, will let it go. Everyone, no matter how much they serve or claim to serve the public good, has their own personal interests in mind as well. Thus, tyranny, in the simplest sense of some level of oppression of rights, is impossible to eradicate provided that humans are involved. Everyone has those inalienable rights, and no matter what, one person’s right will infringe on someone else’s.

This brings me to the main point of my entry for today: Sic semper tyrannis. This fabulous Latin phrase is written underneath the emblem on the Virginia state flag. Quite aptly describing the scene depicted above, it translates to “Thus, always, for tyrants.” Tyranny squashed. Tyranny thwarted, destroyed, defeated, overthrown, demolished. The success of the once-oppressed. The liberty of the enslaved, the freedom to think, feel, say as is your want. A government in place to PROTECT the rights of the individual, not to steal them. Seeing the Virginia state flag makes me feel as proud to be a member of the Armed Forces as does the American flag, because to me that slogan and that emblem most clearly depict the values of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the Unite States which I am sworn to protect, uphold, and defend. My primary loyalty is to that document which I view as sacred: The Constitution.

I suggest you read it sometime. Here’s a link to where you can.

Tyranny is everywhere; it’s unavoidable. It’s our duty as citizens to stomp on it like Lady Virginia, to throw off its gilded crown and reveal how weak, misguided, and ignorant oppression really is, in all its forms. Intolerance is the one thing I really can’t bring myself to tolerate, because intolerance leads to tyranny. Let’s move on, as a society, to a day when we do not judge one lifestyle as innately superior to another? You can think and feel and say whatever you want, but you have no LEGAL right to TREAT any one human as inferior because of what they think, feel, or say.

Note that I’m not putting “do” in here. I have my reasons. I may explain them in a later entry.

For now, let these suffice my musings for the day. And please, for the love of the gods, don’t get me in trouble by interpreting anything in here as more than my opinion…because I am not at all objective when it comes to freedom and liberty and the need to defeat tyranny.