You Know You're a Bass Player When...

A teacher knows you are a strict constitutionalist and asks you to help tutor a child in her class. 

The kid starts writing an essay pertaining to founding father George Clinton and his view of the constitution

and all you can do is think of is Bootsy's space bass.



Love,

S. 

The Magic Painting

This video is interesting. 

It features a magic painting where one can see what would have happened if he or she didn't say good-bye. 

Hmmmm....I wonder. 

I don't know if I'd want to look into it.  

If I looked into that thing, I'd probably see the love of my life living in a hell hole of my own making.

There is a living, breathing human being that can prove the violent impact of living with Siegfred for twenty years.  He lives in the basement.

I'm hard to life with

-yet-

he doesn't want me to move out. 

I don't understand. 

He'd be the first to tell you....

It's a nightmare. 

The house smells like bleach and rose soap ('cuz she's got OCD).

There was no such thing as sleep ('cuz she was a nympho - now she hasn't a partner and just climbs the walls...that's murder on the wallpaper). 

The walls need painted (see above). 

There is an altar to Venus that has to have fresh pink roses put on it every few days ('cuz she's weird and no, it hasn't helped her get her fix yet - see above). 

She has to make her own soap, her own candles, teas, incense, herbal tinctures, her own hair color, beauty products, perfume and most of the make-up (can't do the stage make-up though).  Everything smells like roses ('cuz she's got a ton of them).   The henna stains the floor tile, but luckily, it's easy to replace.  There is a walk-in closet full of herbs.  The garden constantly needs tending and there are tons of bottles of liquid all over the place. 

Let's see...

Home life would suck. 

He'd be fat because Siegfred has to cook when she's pissed, hyper, climbing the walls, or has a ton of energy that she has yet to expend.  If she's dieting, she won't eat the food so...it's all yours.  

But then, if he takes care of the addiction, he'd probably get enough exercise so there would be no need to worry.  

Let's see...

I don't know. 

I know I'm bad in relationships, so I'm steering clear of them.  I'm praying for those I love so they can find other people to love, too. 

I was chewed out by a therapist colleague of mine who claimed that my compulsive praying for the poor was proof that I didn't do anything to help poor them.  He wanted me to take action. 

Like my educating RINOS and Libertarians about the realities of living in poverty is doing nothing.  I've got two research projects in the works, an eBay store dedicated to charity and I constantly chew out politicians.  

What else does he want me to do? 

Light my candles, pray, and conjure the demons?   

NO! 

He has no clue about my spirituality but I found his mini-rant amusing.  

I should lay off the witch thing, buts its funny what people assume about me.  My hobby is weird and inexplicable, even to me.  Collecting haunted stuff reminds me that I'm alive (at least when I get something good...which is rare).  They are the little mysteries that boggle my mind; no amount of research is going to prove the supernatural.  I love research.  I love to take a human question and distill it to it's component parts before going back to examine its qualitative gestalt. 

I can't do that with the supernatural. 

That painting reminds me of some of the toys I have. 

I do have little gazing balls that purportedly show me the future.  I don't like what I see. 

I don't dare write it.  I don't dare give life to what I see. 

Well, there is something that is so insane, I think its okay to share. 

It is NOT going to happen (not in this dimension anyway). 

When I first got one gazing ball in '04, I wanted to learn where and when I would earn my doctorate.


I peered into it one night and saw myself at 57.  I was married to a man from my past who is making fun of me.  We are living in a high rise condo in Chicago.  It looks like, what I've come to call an ICLEI community: a bunch of poorly made match-stick dwellings in an all-inclusive community where people are discouraged from owning cars.  When I looked outside the large window facing the east, I had to look down to see trolley cars.  I can describe the apartment; white walls, tan carpet, tan couch, sparse decoration.  There is a main living area facing south which connects to a dining room and kitchen, and little hallway behind it with three doors.  The television is hung on the wall and paper thin.  There is a framed document beside it, hanging on the wall.  He takes it down the document and starts messing with me. 

It is a diploma for an advanced degree, a doctorate in psychology from the University of Chicago. 

It has my first and middle names (which I will not type because I'm a brat) and a new last name. 

My first name means 'girl'.

My current middle name is his first name.

And the last name on the document is his. 

So, in this vision, the man puts his hand over my first name and exclaims that the document belongs to him and he is a doctor.  When he covers my first name, all one can see is his first and last name. 

Then he removes his hand and says it is mine

before covering it up again and claiming ownership. 

He repeats the scene over and over until I distract him with a well placed....uh....tickle*. 

I didn't like that vision.

It freaked me out a little.

I got up and dug up everything that man ever gave me and burned it (or so I thought).

Three and a half years after that vision, he wrote to me. 

So, I met with him to offer friendship. 

I also had a witch friend conjure a penny that would attract hordes of hot women his way and found an excuse to give it to him. 

I don't think the penny worked, either.  He was pretty depressed last time I saw him. 

I don't know.


Maybe I'll have her make him another one. 

So, if I had a magic painting  that could show me what I would have if he didn't say good-bye because I'm annoying, I'm not sure that I'd look into it.

It may be nice, though, feeling his embrace again. 

I miss my old friend. 

Above all, I enjoy reflecting upon his empowering words: 'dreams [visions] are not reality, [Siegfred], they are all metaphorical.'

So...

take your visions with a grain of salt.

And, I really don't want to sit around and psychoanalyze those dreams.  My soul just has a little crush.  It'll get over it.....someday.   I'm sure of it. 

Love ya,

S. 

* There was more to that original vision but it borders on what really went down, so I didn't know if I should share. 

For me, the gazing balls tend to allow for some type of interaction.  I don't know how to explain it but if I have a question, it tends to get answered. 

The experience taught me that even if we purport to know the future, we (at least I) am still apt to screw it up. 

During that vision, at the point when we were engaging in an activity that made me uncomfortable to watch, I ask him if he ever thought we'd end up this way. 

The version of his older self goes on to explain how me met again.  He visits with me and senses something is wrong but I don't trust him enough to tell him so he left for a very long time.

He said those years apart hurt him deeply.

In the vision he said that we come together again when I need his help and explained the exact circumstances of that event.

It won't happen because I respect my friend too much to suck him into that drama (which is actually unfolding now but I'm going to save that for another day).  I found three other friends who have promised to help me when that day arrives, which it will, sooner than I possibly imagined. 

The part about me not telling him what was going on.  That's true.  It ended up happening. 

It wasn't due to mistrust.  I trust him.  I just don't want to burden him with my drama. 

I was embarrassed to realize that he saw the status update on Facebook change to "Separated" the third time my ex walked out the door.   I stopped whining about it publicly.  I really did change my behavior because I was afraid he was watching. 

I promised not to involve him in my drama when I was seventeen years old and in a bad place.  He used to want to protect me so much, he'd get angry when people hurt me.  I don't want to harm him or stress him out.  Crap, he tried to take on a notorious, satanic drug dealer because he thought it would protect me.

That always bugged me. 

It's best, right now, to stay quiet and still. 

It's not a good place.  I cry myself to sleep.  I wake up numerous times at night in tears.  I don't like my life right now. 

I started drinking valarian infused vodka again and that's going to make me fatter.  I hate it. 

My ex wants me to try to have a relationship with him - yet we will never be together in the way people ought to be together when they are married.  We can't sleep in the same room.  I can't....figure out...how to.....[damn...I can't even type that because it's so rude]. 

A 500 pound man is a challenge when you love and trust him.  When he's hurt and lied to you so much, it's not even worth the treasure hunt anymore. 

I miss treasure.  

We are house mates.  I'm his nanny/housekeeper.  I don't know what to do. 

I feel so guilty.  When I get my head screwed on straight and I'm no longer looking at my old friend like a starved animal, then I'll tell him what is going on.  Once I stop thinking he's cute...or he gets married...or [insert another excuse here].....I'll open up. 

It's best I stay quiet.  No one understands what is happening.  I don't even understand it.  How can I explain it? 

I trust my friend.  I just don't have the words to describe this hell. 

Stupid gazing ball.  I'd smash it but it scares me a little. 

Love ya,

S. 

Pussycat Doll

Okay,

I get it...

When I get a little bit sick of the antics of the opposite sex,

I want a pet, too. 

This song sure takes getting a little tail to a new extreme. 

I'm praying this isn't something a stupid moron in NJ would actually do. 

I've seen enough in this life and wouldn't put it past a dork muffin. 

Too fun,

S.

Fretting

I spent the day doing boring stuff....

cleaning,

recording,

taking down the Christmas tree,

making dog biscuits,

and fretting....

lots and lots of fretting. 

And, not the good kind of fretting.   I left the guitars in their cases. 

I ate 50 cookies today.  I'm so angry at me. 

Okay, maybe it wasn't 50...it was more like five or six. 

At 110 calories a pop, they will stick on my hips for a lifetime. 

Damn...

I eat sugar when I worry. 

I can sense something in the air. 

I know....

I have this horrible feeling my in-laws are going to call over here asking me to take on elder-care duties for them; cooking, cleaning, butt wiping, and daycare. 

I can't do that because I've got to find a way to increase my income due to their son's bad behavior. 

I took care of my elderly grandfather.  I took in my grand-aunt.  I helped my best friend's mother when she got old and frail (until my friend was able to move in).  I have two elderly aunts of my own. 

What is my responsibility to my ex's parents? 

The ones that lie about me. 

I don't know. 

I'll figure it out.

I'm thinking 5% of my income.  I do give 10% of it to a local food bank but maybe...I need to keep it close to home. 

Or, I could just wait to see if they ask again. 

They asked in 1997.  I asked my ex to put aside 10% of our income to support his parents. 

He refused. 

So, being a snot, I steered him towards houses with basement apartments.  Ha! 

My thinking was that mother would always have a place to go. 

I never anticipated the day when she would slander me so much, it would anger him.  I never thought we'd have an issue so big that he'd end up living in that basement apartment. 

Damn....

They asked again in '99.  I'd help them as much as I could. 

In '00, they started demanding that I cook family meals for holidays, drop off the food, and leave.  The expectation was that my spouse stay.  He was pissed. 

I agreed to their demands, thinking that it would free my holidays so I could volunteer at the downtown mission.  Then, my mother in-law ran around screaming that I 'considered the homeless to be [my] family' - not them!' 

It doesn't matter what I do....I'm going to be in the dog house.

Apparently, they were mad that I offered a vehicle to his destitute brother.  The car was used; he wanted a new one.  I couldn't afford to buy him a new car.   

One day, they told my husband that he couldn't attend any family functions until he ditched me.  They've held true to that, too. They withhold information about every wedding, funeral, holiday dinner, graduation, and birth.   With every passing ocassion, my ex's eyes get angier. 

It's just a matter of time before he swats me into a wall*.

They gave their ultimatum on Christmas '00.  Without a word, he walked out on me.  He came back, two days later, and refused to talk to me. 

We've never been the same. 

His family started stalking us, harassing our neighbors, and leaving threatening messages on the answering machine. 

They were asked to stop and offerred family counseling.  In response, his parents sent a letter disowning him. 

That really made our relationship much better....not. 

We've been basically living apart since '01. 

Since then, I've fielded numerous calls from his relatives claiming that I've broken numerous laws: they claim I've harassed his mother, came to the house to threaten them, abuse children and so on and so forth.  They also claim that I've hypnotized their son so that he won't speak to them.

Yet, I can't hypnotize him to pick up his stinky undies.....

I don't know about these souls. 

His mother called and asked for my help in '08.  She wanted me to come over daily to clean the house.  Now, I live 90 minutes away from them.  She has two other adult children.  One lives with her and the other lives in a house she bought him less than a mile away. 

She claims her children won't help her, so I need to do it. 

I can't.  The last time I tried to give her assistance, she told everyone I threatened her.   She wanted a photo of her grandaughter (our niece).  I hired a photographer and had the photos snapped.  When I dropped them off, my mother-in-law told everyone I threatened her but couldn't remember what I said. 

I was informed that the police would become involved if I ever came over again. 

How in the heck can I come over with a mop if it will get me arrested?  I don't know...

Then, she called my ex.  He told her that he was afraid of getting arrested visiting the home. 

The topic has come up several times since then from third parties.  When I explain that I can't help her, people let it go.

The last time it was a problem was in late '10.  I attended a funeral was for a mutual friend and my in-laws, their son and daughter, even their brother and his wife just sat in the pews and glared at me.    They went outside and stood there glaring at me. 

They were so nasty at that funeral. They were so very disrespectful to my friend's memory and their behavior rattled my friend's granddaughter.  I was not impressed.   

I think they are still angry at me for not cleaning their house. 

I refused to attend the wake, as to not upset the other guests.  Apparently, the topic of 'help' was brought up to my estranged spouse.  They ended up arguing about it. 
Why is this bugging me now? 

Well...



I've decided to avoid that mess ever again. 

Still, here is the question stuck in my mind.

What is my responsibility to my estranged spouse's parents? 

I don't have any legal responsibility. 

Do I have a moral responsibility? 

This is hard. 

I asked my ex if we should file for a divorce now as to settle the question. 

He says 'no'. 

If I'm divorced, then there would be NO reasonable expectation of my taking care of them. 

I'd also be able to move on....

Maybe they'll push the issue. 

We'll see. 

When Mr. Ex realizes that time with his father is short, maybe he'll change his tune.

And I have decided, after writing this, that I cannot afford to help them at all.  They demanded that their son not allow me to work.  They and their son complained when I was in school and forced me to quit short of a Ph.D.  That was a fun time.  They (well, mostly their son) doubled my workload to keep me busy, took my vehicle, refused to help with the children and played all sorts of games with the money so I couldn't go.  I have student loans and no ability to pay them back short of the money I make when I sneak around seeing clients without their son's consent. 

So...NO!  I can't help them. 

If I could have gotten that doctorate, I'd be pulling six figures and could buy them a nurse - but- that didn't happen so....

NO!

Love ya,

S.

If you need to understand the swat in the wall thingy:
* My ex was fired from a city job in '08 due to a story his boss spread about him throwing me into a wall as we 'slept together' in the middle of the night. 

We don't share a room. 

Then, while I was running for mayor, the woman who spread that story sent me an email stating that she wanted to get rid of him because he was fat, which is illegal, and so freakin' stupid....

To this very day, I am approached by city employees who will speak to the rumor that my ex was violent towards me.  I lovingly refer to her story as my 'eating drywall.'

Now, here is the sad part of that story. 

The city lawyers tried to harass me in a deposition to get back at my ex harassing his former boss during a deposition. 

I hypnotized those f*ckin' lawyers.  A covert hypnotist can do a hell of a lot of damage in 6.25 hours.  
I hypnotized my freaky ex and yelled at his lawyer, too.  I nearly sued them but decided that running for mayor was a better way to expose their abuse. 

Don't mess with a red-headed hypnotist! 

I wasn't happy. 

I copied the transcripts of the depositions.  My meager retirement savings was raided to pay for them, so I felt freakin' entitled. 

You know why that woman said that particular lie about me? 

Her ex-husband threw her size 6 frame across a room and into a wall while they lived in Europe.  She was pregnant and had to flee to the US with her young son.   

The dear lady never worked through the trauma.  She admitted to thinking about this incident every day and NOT getting psychological help to deal with it. 

When people have unresolved trauma, they often subconsciously choose to work it out while projecting those scenes onto other people. 

When she saw people gasp in relation to me, when she saw them villify my ex, when she saw them disgusted and angry about the alleged abuse - she subconsciously could confirm that she did not deserve what happened to her. 

She didn't. 

I asked the HR manager to tell her about the EAP.  If she doesn't resolve this...only the good Lord knows what she could project onto other people and what lawsuits we taxpayers are going to have to pay for. 

If there is another lawsuit, I'm going to the press. 

It's hard to want to embarass her now - I just want to get a union into the city. 

I originally planned on posting those depositions on the internet. 

She's lucky she was honest.

Tough Old Bird

Pegged

I feel a little pegged now....just a little...

My Shaman gives me jewelry. 

Antique dealers give me jewelry. 

Witches give me jewelry. 

A woman called and told me she had another piece from a spooky estate she's dealing with.    Everything I've received from her has been fun.  She promised to send  me a ring that allegedly makes any woman who owns it pregnant.  I'm old.  I'm celibate.  It's a good fit over here....it can't destroy me. 

It'll keep me good.

It'll give me an excuse to stay away from men. 

There is this really adorable guy who looks at me a little too long.  I don't know if I should reveal how he got me to agree to go on a date. 

It wasn't supposed to be a date. 

It was meant to be a short meeting to share tea and discuss politics. 

My friends said he was agoraphobic and was afraid of leaving the house. 

When he said he'd be willing to leave the house, I thought I was doing our mutual friends a favor.  Isn't it nice to reinforce and support someone taking a big step in his life? 

Upon arriving, I quickly realized it was supposed to be a dinner date. 

Siegfred doesn't date. 

Even if I weren't living in a house with my ex, even if I we knew how to end this freakin' nightmare, even if I were living alone....

I wouldn't date. 

I've never done that. 

Men will argue with me on that.  Those weren't dates.  Those were....uh...movies, dinners, cups of coffee, hiking fun, and other stuff. 


I always tried to pay my way.  I've learned to be quite devious when the check comes.  Only one guy knows how to outsmart me, though.  He gives me puppy eyes, so I'll let him take the check.

All the other guys seem confused when the check goes missing. 

That is beside the point.  Friends hang out.  People who want to screw date. 

People who admit to wanting to screw date. 

I won't do that. 

I'm in a position of playing a prude. 

So, I played along and sent him home. 

Now, the universe is making this man a little bit familiar.  He just about everywhere I go. 

He's cute.  He's a libertarian, writer, musician, and activist.  It's like looking into a mirror. 

But.....I'm too old, too ugly, too confused and too legally married.   

Now, he is doing a lot of writing about Satan, satanism and Anton LaVey.  

Here is the deal.  Even if I were pagan or Wiccan or a witch, I would not believe in Satan.  Satan is a Christian concept.  He is a cartoon composite of various pagan Gods.   Besides, everyone knows that LaVey was just mocking the Christian faith when he created the Church of Satan. 

That is, not to say, that people do not worship the archetype of Satan...they do.  They just don't see Satan the same way that people of the Christian faith do.

A lady would never say that to a gentleman's face. 

I had a Satanist roommate.  He's a Christian now who is running around trying to reverse all those love spells he cast against me in the mid-eighties.  I hated it.  Every time he cast a love spell, my high school sweetheart would show up and I'd dream about the man I ended up marrying. 

Now, I'm dreaming of my old flame while my ex keeps popping up. 

In fact, the day I started missing my high school flame in '05, Anton the Satanist approached me at a superstore and waved his hands in my face.  I hasn't seen him in over twenty years.  He didn't say a word to me.  He approached me, waved his hands in my face, smiled and watched me back away slowly. 

Oh, that's weird. 

I wonder..... do I need to get my friends to reverse a series of spells? 

His mother was pagan and she named her son Anton.  His father, on the other hand, found Christianity and left his mother.  I was ultra religious and his father begged me to marry his son. 

I couldn't do that.  I was in love with another man.

When Anton found Christianity, he changed his name to a Biblical one.  His name is now Sampson.
Sampson is an interesting guy.  He still keeps in touch with my sister.  He lives near me.  He sent me a letter wanting to move into our home about ten years ago but I was going through my marital tribulations and couldn't allow him in our basement apartment. 

That would really have gotten tongues to wag, wouldn't it? 
I think he's upset about that.  He and my sister are not very happy with me at the moment. 

When the time is right, we'll get to talk. 

He used to believe in reincarnation - the next lifetime, perhaps?  If not, we can let Jesus explain the concept of forgiveness to him up at the pearly gates. 

I wonder when he'll see the threads between Paganism and Christianity.  That was a tough pill for me to swallow.  Every religion mirrors the same path.  They have the same archetypes.  We have a father, a mother, a savior, and a guy in charge of darkness. 

It is interesting when you realize that those people who worship, despite what they call themselves,  all recognize the same god(s). 

***

Oh, double crap. 


I've got to find a couple trying to have a kid. 

I can't let that ring from the estate in the house. 

I've got a teenage girl living here. 


Any takers? 

It's a size 8. 

It's vintage. 

It's cheaper than IVF! 

I'd better see what comes with it first.  Sometimes she sends me stuff with entities attached...

We'll see. 

Love,

S.

Update:  I got the ring and, sadly, it's nothing special.   I'm going to try doing all those things I do to charge it and expose its potential power but, in all honestly, it appears to be nothing but a very nice, vintage silver turqoise ring. 

At least free and fun jewelry is a perk of my hobby. 

Cheers!

Age Defying Make-up

So...

I was nominated for an award for movers and shakers in their twenties. 

Sigh....

I graduated from high school more than twenty years ago!!!

How embarassing is that?   

They let me out of it and said I could nominate someone else - I have a couple of people in mind.   

Damn...

that age defying make-up must be some potent stuff. 

I'd better stock up!!! 

Wow! 

How old am I? 

Too old for that. 

Still wanna know? 

Ask Deep Thought - it knows the answer to life, the universe and everything.



Love ya,

S. 

Author's Note: SEE???  My life is boring without the gossip.... I get nominated for stuff I can't enjoy because I'm ancient!!! 

Sniff...

I hope the gossips give me somethin' good...

Maybe it'll be an affair with a donkey? 

How about giving me a career as a jello wrestling coach? 

I'm not as good at gossip.  Gossips are more creative than I. 

OH  NO...

Did I wear out the gossips?  Did I take the fun out of it? 

We'll see.