April is not a good month for the bow chicka wow wows....

............just thought you oughta know.

Slasher Flick Anyone?

Today, Punk and I are off to the local movie theatre to see Scream4.

Okay.. So I actually wanted to blog about other things. I was going to write a long post about Punky and her history. I also wanted to comment back to Aine and Jeanne, our elder fairy godmothers who are so full of good advice. [ Thank you ladies ! ]

However.. I feel like some sort of Debbie Downer. I don't want to be the one with the constant sob story in need of attention. Yes, I have a sob story, yes, Punky does too. We've learned and are still learning that we have just got to let go and carry on.

Unfortunately, we are still young. We're still in foot-stomping It's Not Fair mode. Like the average bratty teenager, we want to rage that no one understands. But we are not that young. We'll come back to it all when we can behave like the civilized adults that we would very much like to be.

In the meantime.... We had an awesome adult playdate yesterday. A dear neighbor and old friend of ours invited us over for movie watching and coffee. We brought over muffins and a good time was had by all. It has been very nice to reconnect with her, and I get the feeling I'll soon have to come up with a code name for her, lest our relationship expand and she become a regular character here.

Dieting has been a little tricky this week. Weekends are usually our off-days when we allow ourselves a little leniency but this week the weekend ran a little too long. Oh well, we'll pick up again. The food shopping was done, and we're stocked up on greens, tomatoes, chicken breast, fish, bread, and other goodies. The worst of it hasn't been hunger or even calorie counting, but the lack of a good home cooked meal. I have yet to figure out the secret behind being able to work with raw ingredients and calorie count. We're working on it though.

This weekend we're off to Sleepy Hollow for the Sheep to Shawl event and hoping for good weather. There's a chance of rain, but we're hoping it'll stay away. I'm all kinds of geared up for sheep! Seriously.. I might need therapy for how much I love me some sheep.

Tonight was parent-teacher conference. As usual, The Brat was all A's with only two B's. I'm happy, though admittedly concerned that he's apparently having trouble in his reading testing. Sure, his reading has come a long way, but he still has to be able to test well in order for his grades to reflect his progress. In happier news, he'll be taking part in more than one performance next month. Yay for school plays!

All in all, today was a good day. Good weather, good friends, good grades. The weekend will be a wonderful endcap to it all.

-Angelwick

PS -

-Aine,

Thank you so much for your words, and for the post on your own blog. It gave both Punky and I a lot to think about, and I've never been more glad that The Brat isn't allowed television at all. I've blogged once before about my own issues with wanting what was shown on television, but it wasn't until today and your post that I got a little bit better of a grip on how deep it went. Thank you.

-Jeanne,

Thank you too! You and Aine really are a special find for Punky and I. We need rather badly the wisdom of someone like yourself, as we're desperately lacking in family and elders amongst other things. In Laws are indeed a tricky thing, but I'm glad that your own experiences will shape your relationship with your DIL's. When the time comes for me to be an In Law, I too will strive to give The Brat's significant other a special relationship she or he can count on.

Soon I'll get around to telling Punky's story so that in the future it might be easier for the both of you to advise us. In the meantime, we're putting it all in a bubble and blowing it away.

Thank you again,
-Angelwick

Georgia dreaming on a New York City fire escape...

It's a tiny lie. I haven't actually gotten out on to the fire escape yet. There's still a little cleaning up to do out there from last year's gardening. Also, it's been raining for what feels like weeks. Ordinarily though, that's where I do my dreaming. I get to be outside, in the buzz of the street but safely above at the same time. If I could, I would invite all you readers to join me out there on a sunny morning.

Sunny mornings are what I dream about on sunny mornings. I have an attachment to the sun. My mom thinks it's because I'm a Leo, I think it's because I'm part Inca. Whatever the reason, I'm like a cat, I turn into a gooey puddle wherever there is a patch of sun. Eventually, I'd like to upgrade from dreaming on my fire escape to dreaming on a porch, or a balcony, or even just in a nice grassy patch that I come to own.

Punky is from Georgia. Actually, she's sort of an all over southerner. She was conceived in South Carolina, born in North Carolina and raised primarily in Georgia. Georgia is still where her father lives, in the same white house at the bottom of a hill where she left him when she was packed in a car and taken away.

Last summer for the first time in ten plus years, she was able to go back. Of course, The Brat and I went with her. It turned out to be fun. For being a city person, I have always liked the country. Just one of those things I guess. Small town people long for the city, and city people long for the country.

I'd love to say that the reunion was wonderful and joyous, but that would be an overstatement. In true southern form, Punky's dad took her return from exile with the same enthusiasm that he applies towards the sun shining. He's just a laid back sort of dude.

Since that one time trip Punky and I have come to understand that his relaxedness about her return was not an offense or an insult, but just the natural reaction of a man that had always sort of held a place for her in his heart and home. Sort of.  It all comes down to expectations again.

If I put myself in his shoes, if I imagined a world in which I had not seen or heard from The Brat in ten years I imagine that there would be many tears and much squishing of the kid. I also don't buy the BS that this is because I am housed in a chick body and therefore chicks cry. Sorry, I believe real men cry. I know they do.

So why the lack of emotions? We still don't actually know. Sure, we have a lot of thoughts and theories but nothing actually concrete.

The new wife, Punky's step-mom, says he's just a man and that's about it.

Punky's dad.. who sometimes goes by Batman.. is sixty years old. Is that too old to teach a dog a new trick? I initially say no, but that no sometimes changes to yes, and then the man surprises us with new tricks that put me back at square one.

Batman is complicated.

The part that Punky and I struggle with the most is that age-wise they are jumping in to that part of child/parent life that is tricky enough on it's own without throwing in kidnapping and other bits. As he grows older it will be her job to be the provider/care taker. This isn't a role she's ready for.

It's already horribly frustrating to her to have to be the voice of reason to her much older patriarch. He's sixty and she's twenty-five. In an ideal world she'd be sowing wild oats while he'd be the voice of reason. It would be his job as the dad to advise her about money, remind her to save and put away for a future, to pick her up when she was down and keep an eye on her health. Instead, it's the other way around. Her reunion with her father didn't allow for her to be the child she missed out on being. So far, she has been the educator.

Me? I have no patriarch. Mine happened to die when I was tiny because he was a foolish old man who was too old to be having babies. I love him, I do, but sometimes I hate him too. His absence in my life caused a lot of unpleasantness.

These new waters that we are navigating a little scary, and very .. I don't know the word.

It seems to turn out a lot that nothing is ever ideal. However, my own personal beliefs don't really allow for me to sit back and say oh well, that's how the cookie crumbles. I know that if I want something done, or to happen, I've got to help it along. I've got to put myself in it to get what I want out of it.

Unfortunately, I also haven't had the greatest of luck with In-Laws. Once bitten-twice shy kind of stuff. It'll be sort of a big deal to pour myself into these new In-Laws who may or may not be able to be shaped into something closer to ideal.

Mostly, it feels like Punky and I spend a lot of time stomping our feet and crying out It's Not Fair! It shows how young we are, not only in years but emotionally and spiritually.

So.. why the Georgia dreaming? Well, this year we won't be returning there. It's a very expensive trip to us of very limited funds. We'd probably spend about two thousand dollars to spend a month or so there, and sadly we wouldn't get much out of it. The way I was raised, you never stay in someone else's home, even if they're family, without pitching in. So, when we went to Georgia, I did a lot of grocery shopping, almost all the cooking, and Punky and I both even cleaned their home from top to bottom. Dude.. that's a story for another day.

Punky's dad on the other hand never so much as took one day off of work, save for the day he picked us up from the bus station. He ate the meals we prepared in his bedroom rather than say the kitchen or living room. And, most hurtful of all, he maintained the same day to day routine the whole time his only daughter was there. Which is to say he'd get home from work, shower, watch Days of Our lives, eat then head to bed.

The only exceptions were twice when Punky's brother came over to watch Nascar, and of course there was little talking or bonding as the race was on.

We just can't justify spending two grand on a vacation to the middle of nowhere a place where we essentially blend into the walls.

So what do we do? Do we try and shape them into a more loving ideal family? Or, is that wrong to do and should we just accept them as they are, flaws and all? After all, isn't that how family is supposed to be loved?

Bonus question to Aine, and Jeanne, obviously we'd both love your input and hope to receive it, but you've both also mentioned husbands, children, and grandchildren. As Punky and I have almost no males in our lives, would it be too forward to ask what their two cents might be? Could it really be a male thing to feel little towards a child that is taken away from you for ten years?

Punky is her father's only daughter, and she was parentally kidnapped by her mother. He never called the police, never organized any kind of a searched, and only sort of looked for her by getting into his car and driving around different states hoping to find her. ( Punky and I still don't really understand how this was supposed to work. ) When I first met Punky years ago, she had no hope of ever finding her family again. She didn't remember phone numbers, or addresses. I was the one who insisted they could be found. It took a couple of months, but we found her dad. She called, and left a message. He called back, and left a message, and finally, they got each other on the phone.

It took a little over a year before she actually laid eyes on him. Essentially, because that was how long it took to save up the money to get there. Neither of us has steady work. Her father did however. In that year though, he never offered to bring her home, he never saved up the money himself, and come to find out way later that he and his wife have some alcohol problems and were spending something like five hundred dollars a month on alcohol. All that money on alcohol, plus money on cigarettes, but no effort to either get to his daughter, or get his daughter to him.

What do you think, my dear Abby's?

-Angelwick

In Sickness and In Health, through Mad Mad House and Sister Wives, forever and ever, Amen.

Thank God that Punky and I don't have a television. We'd never be able to watch anything and would live under a rock.

Actually, we don't own a television because The Brat has Fatal TV Brain Syndrome. Essentially, if you turn a television on anywhere within twenty feet of him, his brain puddles and pours out of his ears. It's a sad sad thing to see. No.. Really, the kid will freeze in his tracks, his eyes will glaze over, and he will be gone. I can't stand it. He's so vibrant and chock full of energy that it's nerve wracking to see him turn into a zombie in the presence of a tv screen. What's further scary? This will still happen even if there is nothing for him to look at on said screen. He blanks out at static.

Also.. Punky and I talk too much during tv time. Thankfully, since we only ever watch stuff on the computer, this is not so much of a problem. We can always hit the pause button and dissect whatever issue we just had with whatever episode/movie/thing is playing, then hit play again and pick up where we left off.

It's not that we don't like tv, it's just that we have so much to say about it. A. Punky hasn't had anyone to talk to about anything, let alone tv, for years before meeting me. B. I can talk the hind leg off a mule. C. We're talkers. We just are. No discussion is off limits. We just talk and talk and talk and talk. When that's not enough, we make up things to talk about. I play the Devil's Advocate. She spins of impossible scenarios, we are never without something to discuss, twist, and discuss again.

This is especially fun because Punky can figure out an episode of any show on tv two minutes after the credits are over. Killer? She knows who did it. Death? She knows why. Baby? She knows who the father is and when the conception happened. Bam. She just knows. I would think she could never enjoy tv, but she does. If I had it all figured out that fast, I could never sit around and watch a whole episode. What would be the point? She says, it's just always been that way.

Me? I can never figure anything out. I'm always surprised, even when it's obvious. On the flip side, I'm so freaking fussy about tv. I don't do week to week episodes. I wait until a season is over and then watch it all in one sitting. Drives Punky up a wall. She's a slave to commercials. Not me. I don't do cliffhangers. ( Back me up here Aine! )

So, we never watch anything current. Nothing is ever done enough, and also.. we hate anything that's too popular. This is some childish aversion to the mainstream that we still battle apparently. If too many people like something, we just don't touch it. It's too cool for us. So we wait five years till it's no longer cool, then we watch and drool.

Case in point, Mad Mad House. This thing is from like 2004 man. We're only now watching it. Now.. the premise is cool, but the delivery is so hoke-y... there are no words. Just.. none... Except maybe some expletives.

Here's the set-up that got us interested. It's a reality show. Ten contestants are chosen to live in a house. They are all average run-of-the-mill normal people. Their judges? Not so much. They're called Alts, and are supposed to be from alternative walks of life.

That was all we knew when we started looking for a streaming version of it. We didn't read the Wiki or anything in case of spoilers.

The Alts turn out to be one vampire, one witch, one voodoo priestess, one naturist, and one modern primitive.

Turns out, we know the vampire. Not personally or anything, we've just seen him on tv before. He's called The Vampire Don. Already, I am in stitches. Sorry.. my inner twelve year old says that no vampire can be called 'Don'. No way man, vampires have to be cool, and Don is not cool. My inner Jedi says that a name is just a name, and a vampire can be a Don if he was born that way. The twelve year old won. If you are a vampire your name has got to be something cool. Like Dracula, or Lestat, or.. something cooler than Don. Also... Don is cheesy. Soooo cheesy. He does a little vampire turn on the catwalk.. on the catwalk.. yeah he does his little turn on the catwalk.

The witch turns out to be a lady called Fiona Horne. I had never previously heard of her, but it gets mentioned that she's written six books and is sort of a big deal. I wanted so badly to like her. I just wanted so badly for witch craft to be represented awesomely on tv. She did okay at first. She was a bright perky blonde, all smiles. This was awesome, as Don had already cornered the market on dark and goth-y. Unfortunately, through out the course of the show she turns out to be a disappointment.

I would like to make one tiny note though. I am very aware that no brand of religion makes anyone completely invulnerable. It's all just about expectations with me.

I feel that if you are going to be the sort of witch that writes six books and tries to educate other people, that you've got to be smart enough not to be made to look like a fool on television. A. She falls for lies. Now.. anyone could be lied to, but she makes a big deal out of tarot reading and whatnot. Surely there should be a hint in the cards somewhere for her. B. She hosts a ritual/trial thing, as it is an elimination/competition sort of show, and she shows up dressed like the w-word. 

Seriously. She's got on a white plastic porn looking thing on with a pentacle cut out at her midriff. Also,she's wearing a robe out of Candice Michelle's closet. She looks like a porno-y wrestler skanky thing. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Why would you do that to twelve million witches across the world?!?!?!?!?!? Dude.. if I was actually a Wiccan, I would have either sued or killed her.

The best part is when she whips out this awesome looking sword and quotes from The Craft. Even Punky kersploded and she was all on the bandwagon of ' A witch can dress like a whore if she wants to.' Now, Punky will admit that the people behind the movie did their research and stole from actual witches, but even she will admit that maybe it's time to step away from the ' Better to rush upon this blade...' speech.

I think a lot of the frustration Punky and I felt with the cast of Alts had to do with responsibility. Neither of us are people that grab labels and try to represent them, because to do that is essentially to speak for so many other people. I think it takes some kind of balls to be the hokey person who says ' I'm going to embody the dark goddess for a bit ' and follow it up by putting on a black bikini top and leather pants. Why? Why does the dark goddess wear black leather pants? Wouldn't the imagery and the impact be better served by being truly dark? If I were to be a dark anything, I wouldn't announce it from the rooftops with my garb. I'd most likely be the rosy-cheeked innocent in a white dress. Why? Because then you'd never see the darkness coming. Like a snake camouflaged in the grass, you'd have the advantage.

Same goes for Don. Gah.. just.. argh.

Art was the coolest Alt. He was the modern primitive. He was also the quiet one. He did a lot of watching and listening, and oddly enough, had better instincts/intuition than both the witch and the voodoo priestess.

Avocado was also cool. He was the naturist, but he had a very nice smile, and was very laid back.

Ta'Shia was the voodoo priestess, and other than one or two things, she was also very awesome to watch. I have very great admiration for Voodoo as a religion. Living in NYC my exposure to it started very young, and I was always fascinated by a religion that placed the bulk of its power in women. At the time I was being raised in the Pentecostal church, a place that was rarely friendly to women in positions of power. I loved that Ta'Shia took great pride in her appearance, it rang very true to me and reminded me of all the beautiful cuban priestesses in my neighborhood and their bright white dresses.

This show is so funny. It promises the contestants one hundred thousand dollars, but the Alts immediately dislike anyone who actually wants to win the money. Like they're not supposed to be competitive for cash. Psh.

Then there's Big Love. The last season is over, but we haven't finished watching it because we're so ADD. It deals with a polygamist mormon family. One husband, three wives, and a bunch of kids. That show is a roller coaster, and spawns the most discussion between myself and Punky. For starters, I believe in polygamy. Just not in the religious kind. I don't really think that people were built or wired for monogamy. Can it be accomplished? Of course, but it's more a matter of will than of instinct. At least, that's how I feel.

Punky believes in Polygamy theoretically. She thinks it can work, and that it could be awesome. It would stick some of the community back in family life. However, she is not a sharer, so there shall be no third and fourth wife to help with the cooking and cleaning in our house.

The polygamy in Big Love is all kinds of jacked up. Bill, the man/dad/priesthood holder gets to have three wives. He has sex with them individually according to a schedule that the sister wives put together. What about them? According to the beliefs/rules in the show, they are all married to each other. So technically, the wives are married to each other, not just to Bill. Yet, Suppose Bill is with wife three, wives one and two can't hop into bed together. Why not? They're married, they love each other, they raise their kids together, budget together, worship together, why can't they keep each other warm on lonely nights?

Okay, so I'm not just talking about warmth here, I am discussing sex. How come two women can be married, but can't have sex? They only share a bed with their husband every third night. It doesn't seem fair. Of course, in their particular cases, these women don't seem to want that anyway, but.. to me, it's the principle of the matter.

I feel that women are a wondrous thing. They're special, and the bonds they can have with each other can be so.. awesome, for lack of a better word. It's not like I'm just sitting around thinking about the hot lesbian factor, honestly. I just enjoy seeing the nurturing nature of women, and love seeing it multiplied. Women that dissolve the barriers of society and propriety.. they become something else. I think of how amazing it would be to be raised by such women. Even to be loved by such women.

There shall be more on Big Love, and on Fiona and Don.. but my time is up. I didn't even get to blog about the in sickness and in health part.. more reminders please.

However, tis late.

-Angelwick

Questions. A deep throughful and painful release.

I've been dealing with a lot of stuff recently, and it seems that all of it stems from deeply rooted emotional place. My life isn't easy, it might not be the most horrible life ever, but it is not easy for me. I have so many problems and sometimes it feels I have no where to vent, ramble, rant or find help for them. Angelwick is my only line of defense against everything that boils inside of me and he wants so desperately to help but every once and a while falls a very short. Not because he's inadequate or lacking but because he doesn't have all the answers. I doubt anyone does.


Lately, I'm been questioning myself a lot about my beliefs, and I don't know if I know what I believe in any more. When it comes to belief and faith, and the ability to be blessed or touched by what you believe, I use to be very gifted. I promise I'm not trying to blow my own horn or be holier then now, I'm just telling the truth. I believe wholeheartedly in what I follow when I follow, and so strongly that I normally am touched by something more knowing then myself and form connections with it. It's startling when I think about it, but that doesn't make it any less true. I have had results with the craft that would knock your socks off. I have been able to predict things, weave spells beautifully from my own words, and heal when it's truly needed and touch many lives. I rarely talk about it because I don't want people to think I'm showboating when I'm not but it doesn't change the truth I feel and know in my heart. I was touched.

Here lately though, when I think of all the harm that's been done against me, and the pain I've lived through because of my own flesh and blood, a woman who also worked the craft but lied about her intentions, I'm shocked that the three fold law or that the higher power or whatever you wish to call it, hasn't come down on her and wiped her out. 

I've lost faith, I've lost what made me blessed, because I wasn't protected from her.

I was raised Christian, Southern baptist actually, and then switched to Pentecostal because of my parents. I always fit very well in both, and then when I was older and found that I had a choice, I found myself drawn to Wicca. At first that is. Then I found Wicca didn't fit me, and found other crafts that weren't so cut and dry. I have my own beliefs. I hold to them. Sometimes they are very weird and I doubt that many people would be able to understand them but they seem to sometimes work for me. Or they use to.
 
The problems being, I'm stuck between them, between the Christian up bringing and the love I have for their God, and the love I have for Magic and everything dealing with the craft. Sometimes I don't think you can mix the two, and because they have both failed me. I want to scream at the heavens and find out why my mother is allowed to do such great harm to me, and everyone I love but have a happy little life with a new husband and friends who care for her. I want to know why the Christian God has failed me, and why the craft hasn't taken her out. I don't dwell on it too much. Not normally. But.. Recently I learned even more horrible things about her. I don't know if I can forgive myself, let alone the ones who let this happen, and the ones who haven't done anything to her. 


I'm still a victim. I'm still a kidnapped little girl, whose has learned under the nail of an evil, evil woman who told such great lies that I've never ever know what's real, fake or who I even am.  I still deal with the falling out of Stockholm Syndrome I didn't even know I had until two years back. I have been twisted, broken and I'm not.. I don't know what I am or what I am not. I wish I could break free and be able to do what needs to be done to her. Of course, I'm not talking about bodily harm, though I want to punch her some days, but legally. 


I don't think I've reached the point where I can do anything myself, but I have also reached the point where I want something to be done. I want her to know that she can't keep getting away with her evil. And I want to know what I was so touched, so blessed with far reaching power, that I feel so abandoned by those I believe in.


That doesn't stop the questions. Or the wanting, longing for answers. I am a victim but I hope one day I'm free. 


- From Punky with love.