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So I went to the Exalibhell today, only 2 actual working days left for the month of March & then I'm free, free, free! We were all sitting in the breakroom & someone asked, "When's Easter, anyway?" Someone said March, someone said, "On a Sunday", someone else ventured forth with "April?". I smacked my fingers to my temples, closed my eyes & intoned, "Easter falls on the first Sunday after the first full moon following the Spring Equinox. Since the Spring Equinox is on the 20th or 21st, it's the Sunday following that date." Someone got up & looked at the calendar & pointed at me & said, "Holy shit, she's right!" Everyone in the breakroom proceeded to look at me like I'd grown not just a second head, but a third as well. When I quit, I'm changing my phone number.

This is interesting. Writing Staff of The Wire promises to vote for acquittal in drug cases.

This is one of the few truly useful ideas I've heard in a long time.

It's bad enough that one out of every 100 Americans is incarcerated, but one out of every 15 black men over 18? I wonder what the juvenile arrest rate is for black males? (The rate for juveniles 12 - 17 was 120 per 1000 back in 1994, but I can't do math enough to figure out what that ratio was for black juveniles vs white juveniles). Once again, we're a world leader - a country w/only 5% of the world's population has the highest incarceration rate - even more than CHINA. (Nessie just farted... snake farts, gotta love 'em)

We have a largish spider hiding behind the dresser where Nessie's tank is. We can't exactly make out its exact dimensions because we can only see three legs. I went & discombobulated all the webbing it had created in hopes of drawing it out, but all it did was pull its legs behind the dresser... and now the legs are back out. It had made a very scrubby web, which does not make me feel secure. Scrubby webs usually indicate recluse or black widow. I did rescue a cricket from the laundry room dust bunnies tonight.


Jun. 10th, 2005 09:10 am
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If I could only spell... anyway, 313 years ago today, Bridgette Bishop became the first person to be executed as a witch in Salem, MA.
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The most commonly stolen book is :::drumroll, please::: The Guinness Book of World's Records.

I get asked some stupid questions. When I was working at the Fantastic Indoor Swapmeet, a woman called & asked, "What's the name of your Avon booth?" Another time, some man called & asked, "Are you the Indoor Swapmeet at Decatur & Oakey?" - to which I replied, "Yes". He then asked, "Where are you located?" Last night, trying to get back to the desk from lunch, I tried to pass the Sherwood Forest Bar. There is a large pink & green neon sign above it that says: Sherwood Forest Bar. There were people sitting at the bar drinking, & bartenders behind the bar doing bartenderly things. There were two women in the aisle looking at the bar, & I could tell they had a question of some sort, and of course, instead of walking up to the bar to ask a bartender, they spotted me in my inconspicuous black & white uniform... "Can we get a drink here?" one of them asked me. I said, "No, I'm sorry, you don't have watering rights here. You have to go across the street to the NY NY." They looked at me & began to walk away, so I took pity on them & stopped them, "No, ladies, look, it says right on the sign: bar. You can drink there." Someone checking in to the hotel, not too long ago asked Jeff, "Where's the casino?" Jeff told him to turn around & look behind him. At least I'm not the only one. Fourth on my list of stupid questions, tho, are people who call guest services around 11pm & ask, "What are the pool hours?" I tell them "8am to 8pm." & they always seem to ask, "So it's closed now?"

Ho Hum

Sep. 18th, 2004 08:59 am
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Jody called me at work last night to inform me that Miranda is probably pregnant. She's had a skipped period (well, she can't remember exactly when her last period was) & a positive EPT. She'll probably be going to the doctor next week for a formal pregnancy test, & then to the welfare office (of course... where else do pregnant women go? Yes, yes, bad Karma on me, phooey - I work at Child Haven, I know how pregnant women think. More of my tax dollars at work). So much for her school & her basketball scholarships. Jody doesn't even seem very happy about the prospects. She's got a new puppy (Andy) & she said that he was there to remind her that she just doesn't have the patience for puppies & babies any more. I didn't even think to ask her what Tom thinks about the whole thing. And Miranda's ex-boyfriend (who assaulted her earlier this year) is the father - he told Miranda "Just because my dad abandoned me doesn't mean I'm going to do the same to my baby." But he's already missed a job interview up at the ranch w/out so much as a phone call, so Jody's not expecting too much from him. I didn't expect it to be Miranda, I figured it would be Jamie first. Dane & Tina already have their kids, which everyone expected. Jody was surprised that I didn't guess Miranda was pregnant right off - I never really expected it out of Jamie or Miranda, to be truthful. They both seem so focused on school & work, & Miranda's still hung up on her dad.

Saw Jeff briefly this morning. I actually miss him. Ugh. Have weird thoughts about him on occasion. I ought to do a hex-breaker but it's kind of interesting to feel weirdly about someone. I haven't felt weirdly about someone since I was a teenager.

Sarah got her nipple pierced - I don't feel weirdly about her at all ;)

Still trying to plan this whole BodyWorlds shebang. Trying to get Ann down to L.A. for the day w/us. It probably won't work out - she's very wishywashy.

Been reading Dion Fortune's 'The Goat Foot God'. It's basically a companion to 'The Sea Priestess' & 'Moon Magic'. Instead of a disillusioned man assisting a woman to connect with the Goddess, it's a disillusioned man trying to connect w/his inner Pan. It's been pretty interesting. Has a crotchety old bookseller in it, one of those, "Are you going to buy that book, sonny, or do I need to stand here all day?" kind of booksellers.

Finally went to that freakin' diversity class yesterday morning. Talked Molly out of a breakfast comp - the Excalibur's food isn't so bad when it's freshly cooked. Anyway, I heard some surprising statistics...
1) Approx. 70% of the world's population is illiterate, & only 1% has a college education. So it's not just me, most of the world really is stupid.
2) Only about 1% of the world's population owns a computer. If this is true, where do all the people on the internet come from?
3) 70% of the world's population is not Christian. Woohoo, I'm not a minority anymore!!!

Autumn is definitely creeping in on us on golden paws... the light's shifting, that underlying chill in the air, Rob's in the rutting mood. Things are starting to slip around the corners of my eyes, just out of sight, little noises & shifty sounds around the house & night audit office. The Veil is slowly but surely starting to thin. I'm getting all happy inside as the days slip by.
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Just have this weird urge to write about nothing in particular, & no one in particular that I owe a letter to at the moment. There will probably be one in the mail this afternoon from Doug or possibly Josh... maybe Will. I gave Will my cell# but no phone calls so far - it's actually kind of relieving. I hate having to tell people "Oh, uh, sorry, I can't go out for that beer after all." After the Prince concert fiasco, I am done making any commitments to a social life whatsoever. I am married to the Job & that's that.

Talking to Jeff in the early morning light, looking at the trash piled up behind Tower 1, smelling that 'old grease trap smell', talking about how much of a hole the Ex is. Yes, I understand that it's got a medieval theme & all, but does it have to smell like a midden heap as well? Jeff's complaining about how all the women on the front desk bitch & complain & want to go home (everyone except me... I am the silently long-suffering), & I told him that for us on graveyard, having to deal w/the same problem night after night, it gets so old. No clean rooms, oversold, tired angry people who've driven 8 hrs. from California expecting to be able to go to their rooms & go to bed - instead they get harried, harrassed desk clerks telling them, "Sorry, your room is still dirty. While you wait the additional 2 hours for it to be cleaned, how about a dinner comp to our illustrious coffee shop?" It gets old. If it wasn't for night audit, I would have quit a year ago. It's nice to have some kind of goal to work towards, though, and for the first time in a long time I am seeing concrete results.

Rob found a tiny scorpion in his room last night - he put it in a jar. Why he didn't just kill the thing I don't know, he'd rather let it suffocate to death on instant-coffee fumes I suppose. So we have a small, angry scorpion in a coffee jar waiting for garbage day. Even though they're deadly I still find them fascinating, but I love the pretty deadly things in life.

Looked at pictures of a mass burial in S. America on Thought to myself that, in death, these men looked like badly preserved gorillas. Finally got around to making that tortellini & roast chicken - I would have preferred the three-cheese tortellini, but Rob wanted to try the pepperoni. I have yet to find a decent jarred alfredo sauce - the Buotini stuff in a plastic tub was no different in that respect. Too artificial - it had a metallic bitterness underlying the bland savor. Processed, dehydrated garlic, ugh. I just don't have time to cook anything, really. Packaged tortellini, canned sauces, canned Parmesan cheese. I'd love to be able to do that much extra, not so much for Rob but for myself. The excess salt is killing me.

Someone on tribe asked 'how do you get Pagans together'? I think the answer comes down to 'you don't.' It isn't humanly possible. Free booze used to be a pat answer, but not so much anymore. We've all grown up, gotten jobs, had kids, moved, died... no one can get together anymore because the scheduling is beyond the power of any mere mortal to figure out.

I can tell I've been tainted by society. I read an article in the Sunday paper about people who are 'childfree', meaning childless-by-choice. (Apparently, 'childless' is supposed to be reserved for people who want kids but can't have them for whatever reason, & it's derogatory for someone who is actually 'childfree'). I was sort of irked at the article - it seems like people have to justify being childfree to society, suffer pressure & subtle discrimination from those who aren't childfree or childless. I myself work w/someone who insists on telling me, "Oh, you're still young. You'll change your mind. It's different when they're yours'. No matter what I tell her, she just knows I'm gonna be spitting out bratlings. It's just like having to justify being fat & not dieting, or being a smoker, or being GLBT. Only 6.6% of American women are voluntarily childfree, so that puts me in a definite minority (the article didn't have stats for American men) but I don't really feel the need to justify my desires - people ask, I tell: "I freakin' hate kids.". I just wish some people would let it drop. It's weird how people, especially women, have a hard time dealing w/explanations that run under 10 words or so. The same coworker who thinks I'm gonna be a breeder any day now can't accept things people tell her as one-sentence explanations. If someone comes up to the desk & wants to talk to a CPS worker, I ask, "Do you want to file a report for abuse or neglect?" They tell me yes, I call Hotline & that's the end of it. I don't need to hear the rest of the story. Kathy, on the other hand, wants to give people the fifth degree, & when I'm dealing w/someone, she gives me the fifth degree about why they came in. And she keeps grilling me, "Well, what kind of abuse, blah de blah de blah." A woman brought about 10 kids in that she wanted to abandon - I asked her, "Do you need to report abuse or neglect?" She said, "No, I want Child Haven to take them, I can't take care of them." 14 words, tells me everything I need to know - fine by me, I called Hotline. So Kathy wants to know the woman's life story. I finally snapped, "If you want to know her life story, go ask her yourself! I got all the info I needed from her!" The woman in question was huddled in a corner w/her hands over her head while her children systematically destroyed the front lobby & points beyond. (Bruce just walked by - I suspect he may be gay... he tells me he doesn't like straight lines as he systematically makes everything on the counter crooked, included the bear that sits on my monitor). Kathy drives me bonkers. Debbie at the night job is another one - ends every sentence with "You know what I mean?" It's like talking to a mobster.And Bill, the security guard here at the day job, likes to brag about how much money he used to make, & how much experience he has working w/Cisco Systems. So if he's got all this experience setting up these big fancy networks, making over $100 an hour, why is he a contracted security guard? I do know he's got a gambling problem. My coworker now, Joann, she's cool - she is an old mobster.

Me & Rob got into this discussion about the location of the soul. He thinks it's got something to do w/the brain, I vote for the solar plexus. I don't even think the soul resides in the body at all - I think it's just tethered to the body. But I also don't think the soul is responsible for conscious logical thought - I think that all takes place in the synapses of the brain. Automatic & autonomic thought processes. Brain farts. It's harder to think of the brain as the home of the soul when something like 80% of the adult brain is essentially dead tissue. Which is why when a person slips into a coma & stays there for lengths of time, the brain actually starts to rot... turns into slimy, green coma-brain goo. Rob's eventual goal is to become some sort of cybernetic robot w/a functioning consciousness - he's so dead-set on immortality that his fear of death keeps him from living. My fear of living keeps me wishing for a quick death :)
perzephone: (coyote)
A friend of mine bitches that no one comes to her for help, while I, who don't like other living creatures, am constantly harangued, harrassed & annoyed by constant pleas for assistance. What's my secret? Uh, I'm that hermit atop the high, windy tor, w/vertical climbs too far up for the average mountain climber's rope to reach, no handholds, no footholds, and it's really bloody cold up here too... one of the last earnest knowledge-seekers froze to death before they reached my cave entrance & I've been using them for crushed ice for my margaritas... anyway, I replied to her letting her know my secret. Be aloof. Be cold. Appear uncaring & self-centered. Offer nothing when presented w/new ideas or concepts. People will think you know the secrets of the Universe as well as all the answers to all their problems & they will be drawn to you like white to rice.
I became determined to become more available & open, & I've had the quietest 2 1/2 weeks of my entire conscious life. One could say I'm a veritable persona-non-grata around work, certain sex-starved individuals excepted. Even Rob's been sort of self-sufficient. It's really weird. Coyote Magic at its finest.
Speaking of ol' Sedit there, I've found in 2 separate books from the library & heard something on t.v. recently about Coyote's involvement w/bringing death to mankind. I also read a charming little tome called "Hex & the City" by Lucy Summers which had a bunch of charming little urban-witch spells in it, some of which centered around divining your perfect career. I also told someone about how you know Who your patron deities or totem spirits are. It's really funny, because when Coyote came looking for me I had only a teenager's passing fascination w/all things deathly & morbid, and at the time I had never heard of Coyote's foibles regarding the introduction of death to life in general. So years later, I decide that I'd be a darned good mortician or medical examiner or something dealing w/dead bodies & I get a book called "Death to Dust: What Happens to Dead Bodies" by Ken Iserson. There's a little blurb at the beginning of the book about Coyote telling an assembly of no-leggeds & two-leggeds & four-leggeds & more-leggeds how if the rock floats, we'll all live forever, but if the rocks sink, everything will eventually die. Of course, he tosses the rock in the pond before anyone can say "No! Don't!" Weeelll, in this past week, 3 or 4 more such references have passed under my nose, & also some mentions of Anubis, the jackal-headed Egyptian deity of the afterlife, & in Egyptian lore, the jackal (as well as the hyena) are the equivalents to Coyote in Native American lore... & Anubis also was quite the saucy God of sex & dirty jokes, much like Coyote. So, even tho I bemoan the fact that Coyote came looking for me, every day I realize a little more how close to my Spirit Mis-Guide I really am. And career-wise, well, it's off to a slow start but by the time I finally get to go to a mortuary science school, I will know all there is to know about caring for dead people.

Stupid Las Vegas trivia factoid: Our mayor, Oscar Goodman, used to be a criminal lawyer, & in the mid '80's he was a defense lawyer for a woman named Sante Kimes, who was accused of keeping slaves in her Las Vegas home. Uh, she lost. (I'm reading the true crime book, "The Mother, the Son & the Socialite" by Adrian Havill.) In fact, I think I've seen the house involved, listed as being on Geronimo Way, behind the Sands - it's probably long gone due to the Sands Convention Center.
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Home again, home again... talking about the philosophy of time/space travel w/Rob. After reading "The Universe in a Nutshell" by Stephen Hawking & reading some of the articles in "You Are Being Lied To" & "Everything You Know is Wrong" & some internet stuff, I'm becoming a little more intrigued by quantum physics. Somewhere out there, physicists are working on teleportation & time travel & all these really fringe projects. It's exciting to think that ideas that were once considered absurd are being grant-supported and looked at by serious scientists. I don't understand most of what I read about it because to be perfectly honest, hard science is not my strong point (too much math). But some of it I'm grasping.
Double-jointed people can probably lick their own elbows. (I just needed to get that outta my head. Thanks for reading.)


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Rainbow Serpent Woman

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