Monday, November 22, 2004

*Insert witty entry title here*

Have you ever noticed that most people (not all, but most) are just about as happy as they want to be?

I'm not sure how I'm doing handling peoples' reactions to my "coming out" of the witchy closet... this is not something new to me. I grew up in a witchy way - it's just that we didn't talk about it - we didn't need to that's just the way things were. I haven't changed, but now that I've been opener about it's just weird.
Sometimes I really do wish that magick worked as most people envision it to... but, *sigh* it's best that it doesn't otherwise we would be overun by toads... *looks around innocently - did I just say that?*

Thursday, November 18, 2004

it's probably best not to think about it...

Well world...I have a blog....and as I sit here pondering what to write to make you all believe that I am as witty, well-read, and wonderful as I want you to think...I realize that I'm actually extremely average, completely normal...and really dull.
I'm taking a writing course...I'm not an aspiring authour so don't be holding your breathe and waiting for a Pulitzer prize worthy novel...I write vignettes about life...all of them true (except for the bits that aren't).

I've given my blog the title signs of the seasons for a variety of reasons.
I love nature...altho I'm a city child at heart, there is nothing I love more than being outdoors in the woods and mountains. We inhabitants of 21st century (and being a fan of Eddie Izzard, I did have to pause and figure that out) have forgotten how to trust and speak with nature, we've forgotten her power. We should reconnect.


My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

My first blog post...

*taps microphone*
ahem!...this is my first blog post.

once I figure out how some of this works...I'll actually write something profound and moving....or not