Pissed off Gypsy

My student knocked up my daughter...

and stole her money....

he has the belief that I can babysit their daughter at his beck and call. 

He threw a little tantrum when I said 'no' and packed up his clothes, stole her credit cards and left.  I get the sense he thinks he can come back when I decide to watch his baby full time.

Now, that he left and won't pay child support, I WILL have to babysit his daughter so my daughter can finish school.  That will cut into my ability to earn an income and fix the mess I'm in. 

I'm a little pissed about being blamed and having to take continued economic hits due to stupid men.

This little boy knows who I am...

what I do....

Why in the world would anyone piss off a pagan?  

The day this song fills my head and I identify with the woman dancing for money and doing anything she can to support a grandchild , I get pissed off about my having to drop everything to take care of the responsibilities of yet another stupid man who makes promises he can't keep.

I'm already cleaning up the messes of another lazy man.  I can't take on the messes of this young moron. 

This youngin' is going to be in a world of hurt. 

I pray one of my friends takes away my little dolls from New Orleans and all my black headed pins.

I'm tempted to get the girls together and build a bonfire when the moon is full in Scorpio....or better yet...Aries. 

There are times...

when I forget the promise I made as a little girl to never play with witchcraft.

I couldn't stand my mother's red door, my father's herbs, the candles, oil lamps, or potions.

I couldn't stand my sister's constant spells to sleep with rock stars.  They worked, by the way.  She became a well-known high priced hooker. 

I never had to cast a spell for love.  I met my true love as a child.  I dreamt of him, drew him, wrote about him, met him, and lost him.   I only asked to find him when I dreamt he broke his leg in a car crash six years ago and wanted to warn him.  I didn't really cast it for him: It was cast to tell me the name of the guy in the dream and to bring him to me.  That spell worked but it wasn't worth the effort; seeing each other brought us back a lot of emotional pain and he still managed to break his leg jumping out of a plane.  He still drove the gold sedan that I saw in my dream; he paraded it around a parking lot while I sat in a borrowed car praying for his safety.  
For the past six years, those dreams only make me miss him.  I still dream that we dance in childish joy together.  The only thing I can think to do is twirl in the back yard with a baggie of herbs meant to bring him joy.  I can't remember what is in it...I have a list somewhere.  I haven't spun around doing that for a year now...maybe I should...or maybe I should just leave his spirit the heck alone. 

As an adult, there are times when black magic becomes tempting.  Last time, I asked for one person to stop harassing me, she got in a car crash.  

Then there was the spell on the mayor to keep him from having secret dealings; that one was a fiasco.  It worked but, little did I know, I'd be one of the people revealing those dirty secrets.  

So much power....so terrified to use it....so many magickal curios sitting in charging boxes out of sight of the full moon lest they regain their power. 

Sigh....

When I was a little girl, my mother would dress me as a gypsy.  I still look like that with my bohemian curls and long draping goddess skirts, tons of jewelry and ceremonial make-up.

The smell of frankinsense, rose and jasmine are constant companions.  The day I smell like hemlock and/or pepper is the day you'd better freakin' run. 

I had a couple of concoctions that I made that were supposed to help me not dream of my ex; honeysuckle and vervain I think.  They didn't work.  I even bathed in it before I ran into him the first time.  I sat with him in a restaurant as he picked out one of the herbs that didn't wash out from my red hair, asking me what they were.  Then, he pointed to an alleged jinn ring given to me by a man in Chile before asking me what the ring meant.

I didn't answer; the ring means that I am a horrible jinn-master.  If I knew what I were doing, his leg would never have been broken, our hearts would be healed and I'd have enough money to fix the messes made by stupid, lying males and the dumb women who believe them.

Still, I may give the spell thingy another go...

The lil' boy left his hairy razor behind.   

Oh, there is so damn much that an angry witch can do with that.  

I'm tempted to make a vexation box on this boxing day. 

Love ya,  

S.