Hello, boys and girls!
I just listened to Fever Ray's "If I had a Heart and as it always does, it zoned me out quite nicely. As described by others, it's soft and melodic, with multiple voice layers to it that just send the most delicious tingles down your spine.
Mm. Nou't ek skoon hoendervleis!
There's been so much over the last while that I've wanted to blog about that I have literally been unable to keep track of everything. I've had a few majors disappointments recently, but since I'm still alive and still able to read my cards and interact with the folks in my life, I am trying my best not to complain too much. I'll start with a rundown of some of the events in my life and maybe throw in a thing or two.
In September the shop I worked for and did quite a bit of my blogs from, Smart Planters, shop 26 Cape Quarter Lifestyle Village, closed down. Out closing day was 30 September, while our last day of official employment was 1 October. We loaded up our last stock and sent it all back to the warehouse, and then locked the glass doors behind us for the final time.
Since October, I've been simultaneously looking for work and doing weekend promotions for the product at the Milnerton (and very occasionally Bellville) branches of Stodels Garden Centre. I won't lie: it has been really horrible at some points (especially when it comes to having to justify the hours I've worked with the person who pays my invoice) and the near-complete boredom I struggle with over Fridays and Sundays, plus missing out on the family activities that can only be arranged for weekends.
On the other hand, I've had some really good times there as well. Chief among these are the times I get to speak to and interact with the Stodels customers that take the time to have a look at the Lechuza stuff, or just stop and chat. Then there are the Stodels staff. Kashif, the assistant manager, is and odd one, but when it comes to the customers and helping them he goes out of his way. Then there's Raymond, who's in charge of the section my pots are in. Always ready with a daily joke or some advice or another (which reminds me, I have to pack the "Chop-chop Chakra" in for him), he really tells stories that are worth it. Carol, a "new" member of the Milnerton branch. Tracy J, the little Lifestyle lady. Jo-Ann, the branch general manager (and secret "in the office" smoker). Romero, who grabs my attention and asks advice on plants and such - like I know that much! Samuel, or Sam, who loves spiders as much as I do (can anyone believe...) And the other staff, too, who I won't even try to name. They're all there, and each one helps me make it through the weekends on my feet in some way or another.
The next thing that happened, and one of the chief things, is that J and I got engaged on the 23 November. I've never seen that man so nervous before, it was almost funny. I think that's what tipped me off that something was going to happen that weekend (in terms of our relationship), besides the fact the he was rather insistent that I come through to him that weekend, specifically the Friday of the 22nd. We have a set of matching rings, plain silver and they look like wedding bands. I was so shocked, but I'm happy we've finally managed to take that next step. Now, if only I could find a job that'll pay me enough so that we can move in together and be a "real" couple...
There's quite a bit I still want to say, but I think I'll wait until such a time as what I have the mental capacity to blog it.
For now: I love you all, and have a good night!
Thursday, 6 February 2014
Tuesday, 26 November 2013
What the Hell is Paganism?!
A number of friends and family have been asking me what Paganism is really about. So, going through my notes for our final exam tonight, I came across one of the entries in my notes on what Paganism is and how it's defined, so I'm going to try and give a breakdown of it so that these friends and family members can have a look and then ask me about it.
First off, I need to clarify the title of this post: It's just an expletive. In Paganism, we don't believe in Heaven nor Hell in the "traditional" sense. Yes, we have a version of the afterlife that we call the Summerlands, or Elphame, or any of a variety of other names. We see it as a stopping point between one life and the next, not a permanent home to the Soul once the body has died. Hell is what you experience on Earth, during your lifetime, either by your own thoughts or actions or those of others. Innate sin and ultimate evil? These concepts are as alien to a Pagan as what emotion is to a grain of sand, or in modern terms, a computer. Sin is what is used by the leaders of other faiths to strike fear into the hearts of their followers (and this is, I hope) the only bit of religious lambasting I will do in this post.
Paganism is defined as a positive, nature-based based Spirituality (or religion, or set of religions), usually polytheistic, in which we work towards brotherly love and understanding between people and the world around us. Honestly, in general terms, we have no qualms with other religions, despite what individual members of the Pagan community might say. It's very much like the Native American Spirituality in that we try to maintain or rebuild the connections Man has with Nature and the World around us. We understand that religion as we know it developed out of the Animistic faith of the Caveman, in that natural phenomena we assigned a Spirit or Deity, and that these Animistic Deities developed and "evolved" until there was one main God or Goddess of Nature. Yes, in polytheism there are multiple Gods or Goddessses, but even polytheists recognise that they are all part of The One, Primeval Deity, Universal Deity, however you want to name it.
Let me explain. In the "Mists of Avalon" film and book Viviane and Morgaine both say, "All Goddesses are one Goddess and all Gods are one God and both are One." Look at the facets of a diamond. The diamond as a whole represents Deity, The One, etc, while the facets of the stone represent the names and faces we ascribe to Deity to understand the truth and nature of the Divine. No, there is NO way in this lifetime that any one person can understand the whole nature of the Divine - but we try, through the use of names and faces. I know, it sounds a bit roundabout, but this is the best way I have of explaining this, and before my teacher put it into words for me, this is how I saw Deity anyway. That said, we don't pray to statues and images for guidance or help - that's a fallacy created by our opponents and persecutors - but rather to what that image or statue REPRESENTS.
Am I making sense here?
I don't pray to my statue of Athena for help and guidance or wisdom, but to the Face of Deity that she represents, that spark of the Divine within me and my direct connection to Deity. I pray to that aspect of Deity that I understand for guidance, help or wisdom. No matter how you break it down, I'm still praying to Deity.
Now, magick. Yes, I know, the media has (once again) been filled with stories of Satanism and Satanic cult activities, and since 1985 it's been that kind of propaganda filling people's heads, but magick as practised by many Pagans and Wiccans has nothing to do with Satan. Once again, this is an alien concept to Pagans. It started with the early Church saying that whatever wasn't in the Bible had to be demonic, and it's sadly a piece of thinking that's stuck in the minds of the general public for the last few hundred years. We use magick actively in our connection to the Divine to bring about the changes we want in our lives. The best way I've ever heard it described is as "praying with props". And yes, we do pray, even if it isn't always in the way's people will recognise. We don't need to stop and be silent to pray. We go about our daily activities and speak to God/Goddess/The One constantly, keeping up the relationship between the spark of Divinity inside us and the source of that spark.
Ah, yes: These reports and fears of "black magick" people so badly like to go on about should never bring Paganism to mind. Pagans, including Wiccans, wouldn't practice "black" magick. In general we aren't too fond of the sight of blood, and since we're working towards a deeper connection between Man and Nature, what would be the point of destroying and hurting Life? Seriously. These little kiddies who "practice" black "arts" only do it because of a sense of supposed glamour, a sense of breaking the rules and for the thrill of things. Dumb-asses. [Thrice around the Circle's bound...] Real black magick is used exclusively for destruction and pain and the causing of nightmare "realities." Most Pagans can't even stand to see a child crying in a photo, so NO WAY could we deliberately cause harm.
That said, we do protect ourselves and others. It would be stupid not to, since there is still so much fear and propaganda associated with Paganism and Witches. It'll take a long while before people get over their own narrow-mindedness and the things poured into their ears by society and religious institutions' members and actually start asking their own questions and thinking for themselves. There's a reason I don't like mutton: it reminds me way too much of people!
Gosh, I hope I've managed to get my message across, guys. Really, don't go and read up on the internet and only stick to the sites don't know what they're talking about (which an entire group of my friends have done!) Come to me directly and speak to me and ask me questions. How can you really learn if you aren't going to speak to someone who's actually in the thick of things?
WAKE UP!!
First off, I need to clarify the title of this post: It's just an expletive. In Paganism, we don't believe in Heaven nor Hell in the "traditional" sense. Yes, we have a version of the afterlife that we call the Summerlands, or Elphame, or any of a variety of other names. We see it as a stopping point between one life and the next, not a permanent home to the Soul once the body has died. Hell is what you experience on Earth, during your lifetime, either by your own thoughts or actions or those of others. Innate sin and ultimate evil? These concepts are as alien to a Pagan as what emotion is to a grain of sand, or in modern terms, a computer. Sin is what is used by the leaders of other faiths to strike fear into the hearts of their followers (and this is, I hope) the only bit of religious lambasting I will do in this post.
Paganism is defined as a positive, nature-based based Spirituality (or religion, or set of religions), usually polytheistic, in which we work towards brotherly love and understanding between people and the world around us. Honestly, in general terms, we have no qualms with other religions, despite what individual members of the Pagan community might say. It's very much like the Native American Spirituality in that we try to maintain or rebuild the connections Man has with Nature and the World around us. We understand that religion as we know it developed out of the Animistic faith of the Caveman, in that natural phenomena we assigned a Spirit or Deity, and that these Animistic Deities developed and "evolved" until there was one main God or Goddess of Nature. Yes, in polytheism there are multiple Gods or Goddessses, but even polytheists recognise that they are all part of The One, Primeval Deity, Universal Deity, however you want to name it.
Let me explain. In the "Mists of Avalon" film and book Viviane and Morgaine both say, "All Goddesses are one Goddess and all Gods are one God and both are One." Look at the facets of a diamond. The diamond as a whole represents Deity, The One, etc, while the facets of the stone represent the names and faces we ascribe to Deity to understand the truth and nature of the Divine. No, there is NO way in this lifetime that any one person can understand the whole nature of the Divine - but we try, through the use of names and faces. I know, it sounds a bit roundabout, but this is the best way I have of explaining this, and before my teacher put it into words for me, this is how I saw Deity anyway. That said, we don't pray to statues and images for guidance or help - that's a fallacy created by our opponents and persecutors - but rather to what that image or statue REPRESENTS.
Am I making sense here?
I don't pray to my statue of Athena for help and guidance or wisdom, but to the Face of Deity that she represents, that spark of the Divine within me and my direct connection to Deity. I pray to that aspect of Deity that I understand for guidance, help or wisdom. No matter how you break it down, I'm still praying to Deity.
Now, magick. Yes, I know, the media has (once again) been filled with stories of Satanism and Satanic cult activities, and since 1985 it's been that kind of propaganda filling people's heads, but magick as practised by many Pagans and Wiccans has nothing to do with Satan. Once again, this is an alien concept to Pagans. It started with the early Church saying that whatever wasn't in the Bible had to be demonic, and it's sadly a piece of thinking that's stuck in the minds of the general public for the last few hundred years. We use magick actively in our connection to the Divine to bring about the changes we want in our lives. The best way I've ever heard it described is as "praying with props". And yes, we do pray, even if it isn't always in the way's people will recognise. We don't need to stop and be silent to pray. We go about our daily activities and speak to God/Goddess/The One constantly, keeping up the relationship between the spark of Divinity inside us and the source of that spark.
Ah, yes: These reports and fears of "black magick" people so badly like to go on about should never bring Paganism to mind. Pagans, including Wiccans, wouldn't practice "black" magick. In general we aren't too fond of the sight of blood, and since we're working towards a deeper connection between Man and Nature, what would be the point of destroying and hurting Life? Seriously. These little kiddies who "practice" black "arts" only do it because of a sense of supposed glamour, a sense of breaking the rules and for the thrill of things. Dumb-asses. [Thrice around the Circle's bound...] Real black magick is used exclusively for destruction and pain and the causing of nightmare "realities." Most Pagans can't even stand to see a child crying in a photo, so NO WAY could we deliberately cause harm.
That said, we do protect ourselves and others. It would be stupid not to, since there is still so much fear and propaganda associated with Paganism and Witches. It'll take a long while before people get over their own narrow-mindedness and the things poured into their ears by society and religious institutions' members and actually start asking their own questions and thinking for themselves. There's a reason I don't like mutton: it reminds me way too much of people!
Gosh, I hope I've managed to get my message across, guys. Really, don't go and read up on the internet and only stick to the sites don't know what they're talking about (which an entire group of my friends have done!) Come to me directly and speak to me and ask me questions. How can you really learn if you aren't going to speak to someone who's actually in the thick of things?
WAKE UP!!
Thursday, 14 November 2013
It's been a while once again, hasn't it?
Faithful readers, new readers, come-and-gone readers:
Hello.
It's been a while, and for once I can't really blame it on being too busy. Well, not all the time. In fact, since my work period ended with Smart Planters in October, I've mostly been home, cleaning up house as I go along, watching TV (couch potatoing), finishing my assignments for class (one of which I completely couldn't do at all - numerous reasons) and generally waiting for my "turn" at the PC.
Yes, you read that right. My PC's monitor connection on the back of the box has been non-functional, but since the network cable's always been those last two metres too short to connect me to the World Wide Web, it hasn't bothered me until now. So, yes the thing switches on, but there's no power from the box to the monitor. I can't even put any porn on my PC! depressing!
In conversation today a few things came up, and one of those was diseases. It's a totally random thing to switch over to, but I felt I had to post about it. We tend to take for granted that our partners are safe (Goddes be thanked J is!) and have complete confidence that it can't happen to us. Well, too many of us, anyway. But it can, and it does. K and I had it in conversation today and two very good friends of mine have both gotten hurt because of something happening - a third friend was raped and almost picked it up as well. I know, "disease" and "picked up" are not very nice ways of putting it, but it's weighing so heavily on my mind I can't pull together the brain power to put it nicely. It's made life difficult for so many people out there that I don't think we can actually keep up with the actual number. And I'm not the only one with friends who've been hurt through picking something up - we all have at least one friend with something they don't share with the rest of the world. I feel we can get over our own fear and closed-mindedness to offer at the very least some kind of support. I will not lie, I can't get myself to help at a shelter, and my reasons are simple: I don't have a strong enough heart for it. It really is as simple as that. I see the people who work with the elderly and with the bruised and battered animals brought into the animal shelters - there's so little care left in their hearts that they come across as incredibly hard-handed, and I never want to become like that.
UGH!!
Of that topic. I'll talk about it some more another time.
Hello.
It's been a while, and for once I can't really blame it on being too busy. Well, not all the time. In fact, since my work period ended with Smart Planters in October, I've mostly been home, cleaning up house as I go along, watching TV (couch potatoing), finishing my assignments for class (one of which I completely couldn't do at all - numerous reasons) and generally waiting for my "turn" at the PC.
Yes, you read that right. My PC's monitor connection on the back of the box has been non-functional, but since the network cable's always been those last two metres too short to connect me to the World Wide Web, it hasn't bothered me until now. So, yes the thing switches on, but there's no power from the box to the monitor. I can't even put any porn on my PC! depressing!
In conversation today a few things came up, and one of those was diseases. It's a totally random thing to switch over to, but I felt I had to post about it. We tend to take for granted that our partners are safe (Goddes be thanked J is!) and have complete confidence that it can't happen to us. Well, too many of us, anyway. But it can, and it does. K and I had it in conversation today and two very good friends of mine have both gotten hurt because of something happening - a third friend was raped and almost picked it up as well. I know, "disease" and "picked up" are not very nice ways of putting it, but it's weighing so heavily on my mind I can't pull together the brain power to put it nicely. It's made life difficult for so many people out there that I don't think we can actually keep up with the actual number. And I'm not the only one with friends who've been hurt through picking something up - we all have at least one friend with something they don't share with the rest of the world. I feel we can get over our own fear and closed-mindedness to offer at the very least some kind of support. I will not lie, I can't get myself to help at a shelter, and my reasons are simple: I don't have a strong enough heart for it. It really is as simple as that. I see the people who work with the elderly and with the bruised and battered animals brought into the animal shelters - there's so little care left in their hearts that they come across as incredibly hard-handed, and I never want to become like that.
UGH!!
Of that topic. I'll talk about it some more another time.
Wednesday, 14 August 2013
It's been a while, hasn't it...?
I haven't posted a new blog in a while. Not because there haven't been some exciting things happening, but because for the first time in a while I didn't have that burning need writers get to write down. While I don't consider myself a writer, I love writing. It practices not only my vocabulary (which I don't get to use much at the shop), but also my handwriting. One of my hobbies, and especially for my assignments, is Calligraphy - can you imagine what a bad name I'd be giving myself with ugly calligraphy??
What got me thinking about this post is one I read originally on Single Dad Laughing. I'm not re-linking the page, so Google it, or go digging in one of my previous blogs ("Read My Stuff!" much?). And I hereby apologise if it's something I've spoken about before, but I feel I need to write about it.
Although I'm not a screaming queen, I am gay. I'm the "passive" partner, and that's all I'm saying about it. I like to date slightly older guys (even if it's only a few weeks or months) and I have been in a relationship with J for almost five years now. He's eight years my senior.
When I came out, things were a bit more difficult. It was still in the lower half of the early 2000s and we lived at that stage in a little town in the middle of frikking nowhere (almost literally - the only way to find it on a map is to look for Umtata and then follow the line of the R56 to the west). Amma was the manager at the local Pep at that point and as such saw most of the townspeople regularly.
in 2001 we came to Cape Town to visit my uncle and his family. While we were here I opened up to my cousins about being gay (I'd told my mom a few months before that I was bisexual - a sad thing is that most gay teens say this to try and make it better, myself included. I mean, you're still loving someone of the opposite sex, aren't you?). Anyway, at some point before my mother was appointed I posted in a pen-pals request to the People magazine, and then almost immediately I forgot about it.
Again, if I've blogged about this before, please ignore this post.
A few months later, completely out of the blue, my mother storms into my room and asks me, "WTF??" Apparently, People Magazine HADN'T forgotten about my posting and had published it in that week's issue. If the neighbouring shop's owner, Adie, hadn't asked her about it, and if she hadn't gotten an odd phone call about it, she'd have been clueless a while longer. Anyway, they new it was me by the name I'd used (my middle name) and the post box. Silly me, I'd thought nobody read the People and that I'd be safe a little bitty longer. Anyway, she gave me the number left by the caller, and Adie seemed OK with it, and then other people asked and such and such. I didn't deny, I just kept deflecting the attention.
Amma spoke to Appa about it not long after that. I asked her to tell him because I'd seen how he went on when gays came up on TV. There was a fight. The "pastor" was called in not long after that. It became a little bit of a joke.
What I'm trying to get at is how much lighter I felt having been "exposed" like that. Now people knew about me in one way or the other, and I didn't have to carry such a weight anymore. No, Appa didn't like it one little bit, and there was a point where we couldn't have a decent conversation with each other. No, no fighting, really, just a bland, empty series of conversations that never did anything to our relationship. But we made up after I'd been in the cape a few years, where we got to the point of actually being able to say to each other that we love each other. It's amazing to me how much better he and I get along now than we did when I was at home, in those years when children and their parents are usually supposed to be closer to each other.
I'm grateful for it, and will always be. With all the ups and downs, being gay is probably the best thing that could have happened to me.
Although I'm not a screaming queen, I am gay. I'm the "passive" partner, and that's all I'm saying about it. I like to date slightly older guys (even if it's only a few weeks or months) and I have been in a relationship with J for almost five years now. He's eight years my senior.
When I came out, things were a bit more difficult. It was still in the lower half of the early 2000s and we lived at that stage in a little town in the middle of frikking nowhere (almost literally - the only way to find it on a map is to look for Umtata and then follow the line of the R56 to the west). Amma was the manager at the local Pep at that point and as such saw most of the townspeople regularly.
in 2001 we came to Cape Town to visit my uncle and his family. While we were here I opened up to my cousins about being gay (I'd told my mom a few months before that I was bisexual - a sad thing is that most gay teens say this to try and make it better, myself included. I mean, you're still loving someone of the opposite sex, aren't you?). Anyway, at some point before my mother was appointed I posted in a pen-pals request to the People magazine, and then almost immediately I forgot about it.
Again, if I've blogged about this before, please ignore this post.
A few months later, completely out of the blue, my mother storms into my room and asks me, "WTF??" Apparently, People Magazine HADN'T forgotten about my posting and had published it in that week's issue. If the neighbouring shop's owner, Adie, hadn't asked her about it, and if she hadn't gotten an odd phone call about it, she'd have been clueless a while longer. Anyway, they new it was me by the name I'd used (my middle name) and the post box. Silly me, I'd thought nobody read the People and that I'd be safe a little bitty longer. Anyway, she gave me the number left by the caller, and Adie seemed OK with it, and then other people asked and such and such. I didn't deny, I just kept deflecting the attention.
Amma spoke to Appa about it not long after that. I asked her to tell him because I'd seen how he went on when gays came up on TV. There was a fight. The "pastor" was called in not long after that. It became a little bit of a joke.
What I'm trying to get at is how much lighter I felt having been "exposed" like that. Now people knew about me in one way or the other, and I didn't have to carry such a weight anymore. No, Appa didn't like it one little bit, and there was a point where we couldn't have a decent conversation with each other. No, no fighting, really, just a bland, empty series of conversations that never did anything to our relationship. But we made up after I'd been in the cape a few years, where we got to the point of actually being able to say to each other that we love each other. It's amazing to me how much better he and I get along now than we did when I was at home, in those years when children and their parents are usually supposed to be closer to each other.
I'm grateful for it, and will always be. With all the ups and downs, being gay is probably the best thing that could have happened to me.
How to learn things; or, Just let it Frikking Happen!
As shocking as it may seem to people, I am not a very happy person. Or maybe it isn't so shocking. I'm not sure.
I stress and I worry, nine times out of ten for no reason than the possibility of danger. I get so caught up in what MIGHT happen that I forget that, nine times out of ten, nothing actually happens.
So, that said, I have been working on latting myself be more positive. It hasn't been easy, and I want to sit here and blame my childhood and all the moving around that we did and where we stayed and and and. In fact, I made my 37th move two weeks ago and the stress has been killing me. Up until the move I was making stupid mistakes in the shop, my memory's been shot to scheisse and I haven't slept properly, as in, waking up feeling fully rested. Add that to how quiet the shop has been and increased travelling costs and all in all, you have one VERY stressed out Leo.
But you know what? I have a roof over my head. I have the means to get to and from work. I have clothes to wear for my work, and I work. I earn the money doing something. As it were.
It's difficult to explain exactly how the change started happening, the "happy" one, I mean. I tried the Secret approach for a while and nothing happend; I took Postulancy classes, and yes, they helped a little bit, but not as much as I'd hoped. Rephrase: not too well on their own ( I'll explain lower down ). My cards, and using them to help others, were always a huge help, but even they stopped helping. Or rather, Life, real life, this long, terrible, boring thing in which we work for peanuts, terrible bosses ( or just terribly disorganised bosses ), odd hours of the day and in some cases little to show for it, got in my way. The corporate world, in so many ways, is just one big giant leech to make other people, often people you've never heard of, rich.
And, by Goddess, I let that get in my way?
Well, forget that.
My name is Dieter. It comes, by slight change, from the 5th Century Germanic Theodoric. Do you know what it means? Ruler of the people. And by the Mother, I will be a ruler of people. Mayhap not a literal ruler, but I will lead by example and try to improve the world around me with smiles, real ones, not the ones you wear when your world crumbles. I've been wrestling with my emotions for a while, and I'm making the concsious decision to be more upbeat about life in general, more trusting in the ways that matter, and more open to happiness.
I say all of this because it took a random tarot reading to get me to see what was wrong. The long and short of it is that I have to let go of the old ideas I have aobut myself. I have to shake off those bonds and let myself rise like the Phoenix does and burn my way forward. I'll Transcribe the reading as soon as my line at home is up and running, but suffice it to say it really made sense.
I asked the Reader, a proper tarot witch, what I had to do to get started on that path, and she flat out told me, I need to be more confident in myself. Time I am, eh, what?
So: SMILE, BITCHES!! It gives your face something to do and will affect your mood for a while.
I stress and I worry, nine times out of ten for no reason than the possibility of danger. I get so caught up in what MIGHT happen that I forget that, nine times out of ten, nothing actually happens.
So, that said, I have been working on latting myself be more positive. It hasn't been easy, and I want to sit here and blame my childhood and all the moving around that we did and where we stayed and and and. In fact, I made my 37th move two weeks ago and the stress has been killing me. Up until the move I was making stupid mistakes in the shop, my memory's been shot to scheisse and I haven't slept properly, as in, waking up feeling fully rested. Add that to how quiet the shop has been and increased travelling costs and all in all, you have one VERY stressed out Leo.
But you know what? I have a roof over my head. I have the means to get to and from work. I have clothes to wear for my work, and I work. I earn the money doing something. As it were.
It's difficult to explain exactly how the change started happening, the "happy" one, I mean. I tried the Secret approach for a while and nothing happend; I took Postulancy classes, and yes, they helped a little bit, but not as much as I'd hoped. Rephrase: not too well on their own ( I'll explain lower down ). My cards, and using them to help others, were always a huge help, but even they stopped helping. Or rather, Life, real life, this long, terrible, boring thing in which we work for peanuts, terrible bosses ( or just terribly disorganised bosses ), odd hours of the day and in some cases little to show for it, got in my way. The corporate world, in so many ways, is just one big giant leech to make other people, often people you've never heard of, rich.
And, by Goddess, I let that get in my way?
Well, forget that.
My name is Dieter. It comes, by slight change, from the 5th Century Germanic Theodoric. Do you know what it means? Ruler of the people. And by the Mother, I will be a ruler of people. Mayhap not a literal ruler, but I will lead by example and try to improve the world around me with smiles, real ones, not the ones you wear when your world crumbles. I've been wrestling with my emotions for a while, and I'm making the concsious decision to be more upbeat about life in general, more trusting in the ways that matter, and more open to happiness.
I say all of this because it took a random tarot reading to get me to see what was wrong. The long and short of it is that I have to let go of the old ideas I have aobut myself. I have to shake off those bonds and let myself rise like the Phoenix does and burn my way forward. I'll Transcribe the reading as soon as my line at home is up and running, but suffice it to say it really made sense.
I asked the Reader, a proper tarot witch, what I had to do to get started on that path, and she flat out told me, I need to be more confident in myself. Time I am, eh, what?
So: SMILE, BITCHES!! It gives your face something to do and will affect your mood for a while.
Sunday, 30 June 2013
Issa Friiiidaaayyy!! No, Sundaaayyy!! Ag, whatever...
Friday's are usually a good day.
Usually.
However, I just discovered that the right-hand screw for the lenses in my glasses has vanished. On top of that, I can't just replace it, as last year this particular screw had to be drilled out of the frame after breaking and replaced with a non-standard screw.
Fuck.
So, Superglue it'll have to be.
I just tried to pay the deposit for my new pair of glasses, but I can't trace the Account Name for the people making them, so I can't really pay the thing off my banking account. This means a trip into a bank to pay the deposit, with queues and strangers and all sortsa k@k.
Double fuck.
Oh, vell. Ve have to do vot ve have to do.
On a more positive note, it's SUCH an amazing day out there. We don't have any outside windows, but the centre's built in such a way that we can see out the balcony door and our neighbours' street-side window. (Precious, please kill that gesanik you're playing - again!).
Shame, I have to share this. It's half funny, half sad, and I'm going by what I remember of the report.
Some really rare Needletail has only been spotted 8 times in the last 187 or 178 years. The last spotting of this particular Needletail was in 1991 - 22 years ago. Now, recently, one was spotted by a group of birdwatchers who naturally got really excited at seeing such a rare flapper - and then almost died of shock when the bedamned fool flew into a wind turbine and died.
Does that damn fool know how close some of his fans came to dying? Probably not.
It's been established that I know how to speak Feegle. For those NOT in the know, it's the language of the Nac Mac Feegle in Terry Pratchett's "Hat Full of Sky" and "Wee Free Men", amongst one or two others. I suppose that's what you get accused of when you suddenly have a full conversation with your friends in Orang-utang half an hour before bed at night. Isso funny!
Right, so this is now Sunday. Not Friday anymore. Friday is, like, so two days ago!
Things that went through my head this morning between getting up, taking the bus to work, getting into the shop. This morning did NOT start out all that well and I shall explain in due course. Amongst other things.
First things first. Last night into this morning were another of those non-sleeping sessions. I'm running on the fumes of my fumes, yet I'm coping much better today than I usually when my sleep cycle goes awol on me. Anyway. I mistimed getting done, and as I ran around trying to find my head, I noticed a few things:
1) I didn't repack my comb yesterday;
2) I didn't pack my work shirt for today - thus, I'm wearing a scarlet red T-shirt under my black jersey over black skinny jeans and black canvas slip-ons. I look a bit dark really...;
3) Going back to the comb issue: my hair was in a bun over last night, so undoing it this morning really required a comb. You know, like the one I didn't pack? The only solution was to comb it out as well as I could with my fingers and roll it into an even tighter bun;
4) I didn't sleep, as I've mentioned, and the ost sleep I got over the Friday/Saturday night was maybe two hours. BIG maybe. Now my fumes' fumes have fumes.
I barely got my hair looking tidy and my arse in the car;s seat when I clicked something else: I'd been in such a rush with Julian I'd left the fur coats on my teeth. Naturally, the fur coats were the first thing to go when I walked in the shop this morning. Thank goodness we have a kitchenette-type thingy in the back of the shop.
Some developements have arisen around the shop. They're closing us down at the end of September, when the lease plus its notice of vacation expire. I don't know what will happen to me yet, but I will keep you updated as it happens.
Hitting the Woodbridge Island stop on the way in this morning I saw a soccer player going through some training in the near-pitch-darkness. Right on the grassy piece next to the side of the road, doing hopping squats and such like. I don't know what the things are actually called.
In other news: I'm getting new glasses. As soon as I've paid off the order. A whole R 300. Am I a miser? No. I simply havent been able to get to an FNB to pay the order. Which is valid for three months from time of consultation. I missed the cut-off the last time I had my eyes tested. In my defence, though, I only wanted to change the frames - the new glasses will be completely new, from frame to lenses. She's finally giving me single-visions that I certainly have to wear when I'm reading ro on a computer, and optionally in day-to-day activities like walking, watching TV at night, etc.
Anyway, this is me saying, "Bye for now!" I am kis and I want to start getting the shop sorted out for tomorrow. I just realised I have an empty space on one of the shelves, but I'll leave a note for Gladys saying that I'll refill it tomorrow. WHY AM I TELLING YOU THIS!? You have nothing to do with this.
Go and enjoy your day!
Love you
Usually.
However, I just discovered that the right-hand screw for the lenses in my glasses has vanished. On top of that, I can't just replace it, as last year this particular screw had to be drilled out of the frame after breaking and replaced with a non-standard screw.
Fuck.
So, Superglue it'll have to be.
I just tried to pay the deposit for my new pair of glasses, but I can't trace the Account Name for the people making them, so I can't really pay the thing off my banking account. This means a trip into a bank to pay the deposit, with queues and strangers and all sortsa k@k.
Double fuck.
Oh, vell. Ve have to do vot ve have to do.
On a more positive note, it's SUCH an amazing day out there. We don't have any outside windows, but the centre's built in such a way that we can see out the balcony door and our neighbours' street-side window. (Precious, please kill that gesanik you're playing - again!).
Shame, I have to share this. It's half funny, half sad, and I'm going by what I remember of the report.
Some really rare Needletail has only been spotted 8 times in the last 187 or 178 years. The last spotting of this particular Needletail was in 1991 - 22 years ago. Now, recently, one was spotted by a group of birdwatchers who naturally got really excited at seeing such a rare flapper - and then almost died of shock when the bedamned fool flew into a wind turbine and died.
Does that damn fool know how close some of his fans came to dying? Probably not.
It's been established that I know how to speak Feegle. For those NOT in the know, it's the language of the Nac Mac Feegle in Terry Pratchett's "Hat Full of Sky" and "Wee Free Men", amongst one or two others. I suppose that's what you get accused of when you suddenly have a full conversation with your friends in Orang-utang half an hour before bed at night. Isso funny!
Right, so this is now Sunday. Not Friday anymore. Friday is, like, so two days ago!
Things that went through my head this morning between getting up, taking the bus to work, getting into the shop. This morning did NOT start out all that well and I shall explain in due course. Amongst other things.
First things first. Last night into this morning were another of those non-sleeping sessions. I'm running on the fumes of my fumes, yet I'm coping much better today than I usually when my sleep cycle goes awol on me. Anyway. I mistimed getting done, and as I ran around trying to find my head, I noticed a few things:
1) I didn't repack my comb yesterday;
2) I didn't pack my work shirt for today - thus, I'm wearing a scarlet red T-shirt under my black jersey over black skinny jeans and black canvas slip-ons. I look a bit dark really...;
3) Going back to the comb issue: my hair was in a bun over last night, so undoing it this morning really required a comb. You know, like the one I didn't pack? The only solution was to comb it out as well as I could with my fingers and roll it into an even tighter bun;
4) I didn't sleep, as I've mentioned, and the ost sleep I got over the Friday/Saturday night was maybe two hours. BIG maybe. Now my fumes' fumes have fumes.
I barely got my hair looking tidy and my arse in the car;s seat when I clicked something else: I'd been in such a rush with Julian I'd left the fur coats on my teeth. Naturally, the fur coats were the first thing to go when I walked in the shop this morning. Thank goodness we have a kitchenette-type thingy in the back of the shop.
Some developements have arisen around the shop. They're closing us down at the end of September, when the lease plus its notice of vacation expire. I don't know what will happen to me yet, but I will keep you updated as it happens.
Hitting the Woodbridge Island stop on the way in this morning I saw a soccer player going through some training in the near-pitch-darkness. Right on the grassy piece next to the side of the road, doing hopping squats and such like. I don't know what the things are actually called.
In other news: I'm getting new glasses. As soon as I've paid off the order. A whole R 300. Am I a miser? No. I simply havent been able to get to an FNB to pay the order. Which is valid for three months from time of consultation. I missed the cut-off the last time I had my eyes tested. In my defence, though, I only wanted to change the frames - the new glasses will be completely new, from frame to lenses. She's finally giving me single-visions that I certainly have to wear when I'm reading ro on a computer, and optionally in day-to-day activities like walking, watching TV at night, etc.
Anyway, this is me saying, "Bye for now!" I am kis and I want to start getting the shop sorted out for tomorrow. I just realised I have an empty space on one of the shelves, but I'll leave a note for Gladys saying that I'll refill it tomorrow. WHY AM I TELLING YOU THIS!? You have nothing to do with this.
Go and enjoy your day!
Love you
Colour. Just colour.
Yes, you read that a-right. I mean colour, whereby we used to eat only the insects that had dull shadings and not the the bright markings; that we use to paint our fingernails and faces with the best match to our skin tones; with which we decide which types of eyes we like our men to have (or girls, for you lesbians and straight guys).
I often get so caught up in the tiny little things that sometimes (oft-times) I miss something that's right in front of me. Again, I mean colours. Have you ever stopped to really think about how a colour makes you feel? Therapists of different media all use colour, in some way or another, in their practises. If you look at the normal, 1980's style doctor, such as I grew up with, you see that his bottles of pills and medication were all of different shades of brown or blue or green, sometimes even the odd clear one. Then we move on to colour therapists, who use combinations of colour according to you personal preferences to affect a "healing" in whichever area or areas of your life are in need of it.
Let's discuss this a little bit. Think of blue. What do you feel when you think of blue? I personally don't like it, and yet it seems to be one of the most common used colours in clothing, sometimes shoes, make-up and various bedding sets. To me, as a cool colour, blue is cold. It's the colour that brings to mind for me the days when you either had a fire at night or you died like a freeze-dried bug.
And then, suddenly, you get different shades of blue. OH, MY WORD!! Different shades of blue!? Hell, yes. Turquoise (it's a blut, not a green), aquamarine, skyblue, cobalt blue, midnight blue, electric blue, navy blue. There's still a whole list of blues to go through, but I don't know what it is, so go look up for yourselves, you lazy bunch! Just joking, I've added a link to get you started here. If the link doesn't work from here, you'll have to Googlepedia Blue and start off at Wikipedia. The buggers have to have provable sources for every article, so start with the Wiki, and if it seems you can get somewhere with it, use the sources as a diving board.
Right, enough about blue.
Do you have any idea how beautiful your skin looks to me? That unblemished Coffee-and-Cream of certain of the local tribes, where you feel you could drink the owner of such skin and have enough leftover afterwards for the world to share some. What about the pale and freckled look? I LOVE IT!! My friend JM is a ginger and he has the most amazing freckles and his hair isn't a flat-out "ow! my eyes" as people are wont to expect. (Red hair, by the way, is an evolutionary adaption whereby certain bodies were altered to form the red-hair gene. Since Vitamin D is formed in the skin by the interaction of Solar UV radiation and one's skin, it does turn a flaming red. This simply means (from what I can remember) that the body has very suddenly produced too much vitamin D and might be storing some for the . If you don't catch my drift, let me try and simplify:
One day long ago everybody was blonde or dark-haired. There no redheaded people anywhere to be found. So Genetics, in their inner wisdom, plotted and planned a conference discussing what they can do to help their bears. Some of the ladies at the conference were pregnant. It just so happened that these ladies all came from the northern territories of earth - think Vikings, Scots, some Irish. You know mos. So, Genetics got to work on these ladies and changed their babies' skin cells around a bit. Now, bear in mind that the Northern Teritories have little to know sun for months at a time. The Genetics pulled a gene here, pushed a gene there, and nine months later, when the babies were born, they had the first red hair. Their beautiful red hair and pale skin mean that, in the places with the least sunlight, they'll always have the greater advantage when it comes to Vitamin D production.
In 60 years redheads will be extinct. All due to genetic diversity and the mingling of the races. I can honestly say, if I'm still around and I never see red hair again, i will be heartbroken.
I often get so caught up in the tiny little things that sometimes (oft-times) I miss something that's right in front of me. Again, I mean colours. Have you ever stopped to really think about how a colour makes you feel? Therapists of different media all use colour, in some way or another, in their practises. If you look at the normal, 1980's style doctor, such as I grew up with, you see that his bottles of pills and medication were all of different shades of brown or blue or green, sometimes even the odd clear one. Then we move on to colour therapists, who use combinations of colour according to you personal preferences to affect a "healing" in whichever area or areas of your life are in need of it.
Let's discuss this a little bit. Think of blue. What do you feel when you think of blue? I personally don't like it, and yet it seems to be one of the most common used colours in clothing, sometimes shoes, make-up and various bedding sets. To me, as a cool colour, blue is cold. It's the colour that brings to mind for me the days when you either had a fire at night or you died like a freeze-dried bug.
And then, suddenly, you get different shades of blue. OH, MY WORD!! Different shades of blue!? Hell, yes. Turquoise (it's a blut, not a green), aquamarine, skyblue, cobalt blue, midnight blue, electric blue, navy blue. There's still a whole list of blues to go through, but I don't know what it is, so go look up for yourselves, you lazy bunch! Just joking, I've added a link to get you started here. If the link doesn't work from here, you'll have to Googlepedia Blue and start off at Wikipedia. The buggers have to have provable sources for every article, so start with the Wiki, and if it seems you can get somewhere with it, use the sources as a diving board.
Right, enough about blue.
Do you have any idea how beautiful your skin looks to me? That unblemished Coffee-and-Cream of certain of the local tribes, where you feel you could drink the owner of such skin and have enough leftover afterwards for the world to share some. What about the pale and freckled look? I LOVE IT!! My friend JM is a ginger and he has the most amazing freckles and his hair isn't a flat-out "ow! my eyes" as people are wont to expect. (Red hair, by the way, is an evolutionary adaption whereby certain bodies were altered to form the red-hair gene. Since Vitamin D is formed in the skin by the interaction of Solar UV radiation and one's skin, it does turn a flaming red. This simply means (from what I can remember) that the body has very suddenly produced too much vitamin D and might be storing some for the . If you don't catch my drift, let me try and simplify:
One day long ago everybody was blonde or dark-haired. There no redheaded people anywhere to be found. So Genetics, in their inner wisdom, plotted and planned a conference discussing what they can do to help their bears. Some of the ladies at the conference were pregnant. It just so happened that these ladies all came from the northern territories of earth - think Vikings, Scots, some Irish. You know mos. So, Genetics got to work on these ladies and changed their babies' skin cells around a bit. Now, bear in mind that the Northern Teritories have little to know sun for months at a time. The Genetics pulled a gene here, pushed a gene there, and nine months later, when the babies were born, they had the first red hair. Their beautiful red hair and pale skin mean that, in the places with the least sunlight, they'll always have the greater advantage when it comes to Vitamin D production.
In 60 years redheads will be extinct. All due to genetic diversity and the mingling of the races. I can honestly say, if I'm still around and I never see red hair again, i will be heartbroken.
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