I am the 99%
I was born into a working class family in one of the best countries on the world. We struggled mightily after the divorce; Mom went back to school while cleaning rich people’s houses. The government didn’t consider making dead beat Dads pay a reasonable amount of child support on time to be a priority. Sometimes Christmas dinner came from the food bank. We lived in a ramshackle house heated with a wood stove and a kitchen sink that drained into a bucket.
I was teased and bullied by the well-to-do kids at school for having thrift store clothes and plain or subsidized lunches, because that is what they were taught by their parents.
I tried my very best at school and did well in some subjects but failed utterly in others. I was told this was because I was a bad and lazy child. It turns out that I had learning disabilities that should have been receiving treatment and help so that I could succeed. Because my mother was often working two jobs to keep a roof over our heads she could not badger the school and be an advocate for me. The schools refused to accommodate the… Continue reading
Little Random Things
I haven’t been up for writing a long and proper post lately, I’ve got stuff going on and all. But I have been writing little bits and pieces of this and that in a word document. Sort of like a series of mini posts or fragments from a stream of consciousness. Well, here they are:
Sometimes it’s annoying when your divination set and spirits keep telling you the same damned thing. Especially when it’s freaking obvious. Yes, I know that, thank you … got anything else to say? No? Uh, well fine, thanks anyways.
You know someone is really into arts and crafts when they stop in mid ritual to chat about an afghan.
I had the girls come over after Bren finished hauling his stuff out to give me a hand. It was kind of like that scene in Practical Magic when they use the phone tree system to call for help. Only I didn’t have a sexy but dead guy possessing my sister. I just needed some help getting off my self pitying ass to move some furniture and clear a little negative energy. I felt bad and tried backing out of it last minute,… Continue reading
Afraid and Ashamed, but not Surprised
I am sure this will make many people angry, but there are people whom I hold dear south of the border. I feel the need to say something:
I invite my American counter parts to come visit other Western countries, to see that there are ways to practice and encourage religious tolerance and multi-culturalism than other than your own. The American style of conflict resolution is often filled with hate, fear and anger; reactionary and aggressive.
When I lived and travelled in the USA I was constantly amazing by the level of violence that is taken for granted within your culture. It permeates everything, even ordinary everyday language. An electric drill was called a screw gun. One does not refill a drink, they reload it.
Seeing my fellow Witches, Pagans and Heathens calling for an eye for an eye makes me sick. It fills me with shame.
Many of the words I read and hear being used by Americans within my religious body these past few days would be considered hate speech in Canada. It sounds no different to my ears than “God hates fags” or “Paganism must be eradicated” or “All Muslims are terrorists”.
As I watch the news… Continue reading
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