A Boast, I Has It.

So yesterday morning I went to see my endo at Duke. Let me tell you kids....

The walk from the apartment to the bus stop 1/3 mile away was the easy part. The bus gets held up in downtown Cary by The Carolinian (for those outside NC: it's a train), which took forever to disgorge and pick up its passengers at the station and was blocking the bus' access to the rest of its route. Then I get to the TTA transit center, and almost miss the 412 to Duke because the driver wasn't paying attention and didn't see me until I rapped on the door as he was starting to pull out. Then I had to fight with the coinbox for five minutes before it finally took my fare.

I get to Duke fine. Head across the road to the front door--and find out that I'm on the wrong end of Duke campus. I could take a shuttle, or I could walk. I decided to walk. Walked across like half of Durham in the early-morning heat--and got lost twice on the way--and despite all that I still managed to get there like 10 minutes early.

Then came the fun part--the weigh-in.

I've dropped 40 pounds since the end of January, kids. VICTORY FOR ZIM!

BP was a little jacked-up because I basically hauled ass from one end of Duke campus to the other--but when they re-checked it after 10 minutes?  I was golden. 121/70

So my endo is happy, I'm happy, we're all happy and everything is awesome. So that's my boast.

The rest of the day was...hmm. Now see, I hadn't eaten anything that morning, because I knew I was getting labs done. But I wanted to grab the bus ASAP after my appointment, so rather than stop at the cafeteria and have something to eat I decided to just haul it to the bus stop. I got on the 412, got bitched at by the rude-ass driver (who I've had an issue with ever since I used to take the 747 to work) because I wanted to take the scenic route rather than the 413 back to the Park, but I ignored her and just cranked the iPod while going on a bus tour of parts of Chapel Hill and Durham that I hadn't seen before (specifically, deep inside UNC campus and the Streets of Southpoint). Get back to the RTP, decide "what the hell, I'll go visit my homiez at D.H. Hill Library"--and I get on the 105 to State. Visit with everyone that I could find at the Library, then went to get on the 105 back to the Park so I could catch the 301 home.

And that's about when the heat combined with my lack of sustenance and a dangerously low and non-refilled water supply to layeth the smacketh down upon my candy ass. First the Carter-Finley WolfLine bus blows past me without even seeing I was there. Then half an hour later the 105 headed back to the Park blew past me. I'd been standing in the heat for close to an hour and a half now (counting walking time around campus), wearing sweats, and I was starting to slowly fade. My sciatic nerve went "oh, fuck you--I've been good for long enough, now I'm going to give you issues" and my right leg started hurting like a sumbitch along with my back. There was no way in the Nine Worlds I was going to last the 45 minutes I would have had to wait for the next bus. So I hobbled to the SECU branch right across from State, and camped their water fountain in the lobby--fending off any puzzled querents with my membership card, to prove that I wasn't some bum off the street. And I called Genghis and begged him to come get me.

Got lectured, of course--but he shut up when he realized that I really was in need of that emergency evac. He stopped at the Sonic over near where we live, and all I could think of was something cold and tasty.

"I would be ever so grateful," I said, "for a Cherry Limeade Chiller."

I hadn't had one in ages--it was awesome. No cherry or lime wedge, but it was cool and it was tasty and I decided to treat it as the "once in a blue moon" reward I deserved. Mmmm....Cherry Limeade Chiller.

Oh yeah, and when I got home I had a Soyjoy and three or four turkey-lettuce wraps with some pasta salad. And more water. And a cool shower. And a nap. Because, y'know, I kinda needed them.

The Mighty Cup of Awesome

The week has been kind to me so far. Walking has begun again, with no palpitations. This is a relief to me, because I missed my walkies.

My taxes are going to be filed soon--I'm looking at getting about a grand or so, which I am seriously considering investing in either a stationary bike OR in a down-payment on a used car (so I can go to the Planet Fitness a few miles down the road). Thoughts?  Yesno?

My birthday is coming in about 4 months. I'll be getting my Hammer then, at Blue Flame tattoo on Peace Street--it'll piss off the husband, which I don't care about. My body, my choice, yadda yadda. The Ansuz rune will come the night before I go back to uni again, which will hopefully be sooner rather than later. But we'll see.

That's all for now.

Counting one's blessings

So day before yesterday when I went for my walk around the call center, I started getting heart palpitations. I forged on through, figuring it would pass. I tried again at lunch, same thing. Second break, I stopped halfway because it started to scare me.

So now I'm being very careful and trying to do stuff other than walking, because honestly?  I don't feel like keeling over--mostly because I don't think Genghis will do what I ask and play "Goin' Back to Cali" and "I Love LA" at my funeral. For that matter, I don't think he'd even so much as try to get me in the family plot in Chatsworth--but of course, I could be wrong.

Anyway. I have a feeling that part of the issue is caffeine intake. So I've been moderating that more heavily, and I'll have to talk to my endo about this on Tuesday when I go see her. That should be a big ball of fun, right there.

But on the upside?  I can make it to the mailbox with no problem now (a far damn cry from when I started, yo). Coming back is a pain though--fuckin' hills.

Hitting the wall

Sometimes I wonder why I'm doing this, really. Pain has been a constant companion lately--which some would say is weakness leaving the body, but to me it's just something that I want to be quit of, something to fight through...even though it would be easier to just give up. But I took the easy route before, and all it brought me was pain.

I don't know that I'm ready to give up--I don't know that I'll ever be ready to give up. But I wonder why I'm doing this--who I'm doing this for. I'm to the point where I want to quit my job so I can devote myself to other goals, but I know that I need money. Since I don't think I'll be winning the lottery anytime soon, I guess I kinda have to lump it.

Note to self: buy a scale.

Ego Spikes and Sugar Drops

My back is KILLING me today. KILLING. ME. This made walking difficult. I couldn't go to the 'mill like I planned last night, which pissed me off--so I busied myself cleaning house and taking out trash instead. Blood sugar spiked at 159 at 10PM, which freaked me out. Made myself a turkey sandwich, and about an hour and a half later blood sugar was down to 107. This morning when I woke up, it was at 96. I had to explain to Genghis this morning that if I skip meals, it spikes the blood sugar because my body goes "OH NOES NEED ENERGY" and tells my cells to release a bunch of stored glucose into my system in an attempt to compensate.

You would think that a guy who was a quarter shy of becoming an RN would know something like this. But no, he didn't get it.  As I've told many people, he's not malicious. He's just clueless.

So this morning I had a large bowl of Special K, and I've been snacking on trail mix and had a packet of nabs to keep the blood sugar from spiking and then crashing (it's at 88 right now). That's my fault, because I didn't even think to pack a lunch today--and I even got my favourite wholegrain bread for sandwiches at the store last night! Go team me. If it gets any lower, well I have an Emergency Dum Dum I can suck on.

Had two co-workers and a sup come up to me at work today and comment that it's becoming very apparent that I'm losing weight, and give me attaboys. Encouragement like that means a lot to me, because it confirms what I already know: that I'm doing the right thing.

Now, if I can just keep from falling out because of my own damn foolishness.... *reaches for the Emergency Dum Dum*

Thanks Eostre Bunny!

The equinoxes proceed according to precedent, and so I wish a happy Eostre to you all. May the arrival of spring bring you luck.

Breakfast this morning was 2 cups grapes, half a bagel with 1 oz cream cheese, and a couple swigs of 2% milk. I've been snacking it all day with unsalted trailmix (almonds, peanuts, sunflower kernels, raisins) from the vending machine downstairs, and meandering briskly around the floor with help from my iPod (today's playlist is "I Have The Touch" by Peter Gabriel, "Take California" by Propellerheads, "Battle Without Honor or Humanity" by Tomoyaso Hotei, "Forty Six and 2" by Tool, and "Ready Steady Go" by Paul Oakenfold. When I get home I'll throw on some more Tool before I go hit the treadmill).

I felt rather proud of myself today when my sup came round with cookies and I politely declined--because honestly?  I don't miss the sugary stuff I used to go nuts for. Perhaps it's because I've started satisfying my brain's need for carbohydrate energy with stuff that I also go nuts for but is better for me (like the pork lo mein that I had last night for dinner). If my blood sugar for whatever reason takes a nosedive, I have a Dum Dum pop at my desk that I can suck on. The better choice of course would be to get a packet of nabs* from the vending machine downstairs, but if my blood sugar is dropping then there's no way I can get down there before I fall out and they truck my happy ass off to WakeMed in the back of an ambulance.

Tonight's dinner is beef fried rice and greens dressed with a spritz of olive oil and some montreal steak seasoning, followed by walking through all of "10,000 Days". Maybe I'll push it and try to get through "Aenima" too. Doable, y/y?

*:for those who are not from the South, "nabs" are those little snack crackers that you get from the vending machine, like six to a pack.

I'm a Nightside Girl in a Dayside World

Breakfast: 1 bowl Fiber One w/oatmeal raisin clusters, 8oz 2% milk

Lunch: 1 piece fried flounder
Snack: Bagel w/2oz strawberry cream cheese, 1 pkg Karr's trail mix (peanuts, sunflower kernels, almonds, raisins

Dinner: TBD

Did two circuits of the 2nd floor on break, did the same outside over lunch and I'm planning to do three on second break. It's kind of a pain in the ass sometimes, because I get stopped by co-workers with questions and so—but at least on lunch I have an hour. NO PRESSURE, RIGHT?

This morning I basically had to get up and get right in the shower, and then I had five minutes to get dressed and get out the door so I could get to work early. Fortunately, this morning I had no blood sugar issues that I knew of, but of course dumbass me not only forgot to check my blood sugar, but I left the glucose meter at home. Err...oops?

I told Genghis that for Yule I want a stationary bike—preferably one that I can camp in front of my monitor so I can watch hockey while pedalling gods only know how many miles. If I could figure out how to rig it up, I'd be able to play WoW while on the bike too. I'd do everything on the bike. I'd even do my work on the bike, but then my customers would be all “Damn, woman—they got you running laps or something there?” I love cycling and hockey. The first day of the Tour de France is a holiday for me, as is the first day of hockey season. Years ago, I had a bike and would ride it everywhere. Then I fucked my knees up and had to stop riding. Hockey was different—there, I kinda had to watch. Not easy being one of only four hockey fans in a tiny-ass town of 1500 in the middle of damn nowhere.

So my goals are thus:

Drop to 190
Start skating
Start cycling (again, and over the objections of Genghis, who is convinced I'll get pasted by a truck or a city bus)
Play hockey

I am the AcidQueen, and I am a defenceman like my Harry before me.

Back In The Saddle Again

I recently started on an heroic quest to lose all of the weight I gained over the last 17 years of marriage...and then some.

Hi, I'm AQ and I'm trying to get right with myself.

Here is my most recent photograph (from 2006, after my beloved Hurricanes won the Cup):

My goal is to get down to 190--from there, everything else is gravy. The hard part was starting. I've already started modifying my eating habits so that I'm eating more of what I like (greens, fruit, nuts, other stuff that's good for a body), and no more of what my husband likes (TV dinners, nasty Kroger chicken, fast food, and so on).

For so many years, it was easier for me to just shut the fuck up and eat what Genghis put in front of me rather than bitch and wind up having to deal with drama about "spending money" and raving about how "we need to eat cheap food", or put up with insane jealousy every time I even so much as said hello to a guy on the street. I knew it was bad, I knew that the fact that I have PCOS made it far far easier to gain than to lose, but I did it anyway because it was the only way to avoid getting shit on by somebody with his own set of insecurities.

I complained (oh man did I complain) to my friends, my friends said WTFHUSBAND? (and a few said WTFDIVORCE?) to me--my best friend on the whole planet flat told me he was afraid I'd wind up dead if it didn't stop (I believe the phrase he used was "fatted to die")...and that was 13 years ago. I think that when the two of us re-established contact after so long, he was surprised to find out I was still 1) breathing and 2) ambulatory. Even my family practice doctor and my endocrinologist at Duke U. said something to me and to Genghis...and he just didn't get it, even after Dr. Brown (my endo, not my best friend or the dude from the Back To The Future movies) told him that I fit the criteria for Type 2 Diabetes and things had to change immediately.

I'm still surprised she didn't slap him when he flat out said "Well, we don't have a lot of money and we need to economize. We need to eat cheap food." Hell, I'm surprised I didn't slap him.

I wanted to stop for years, but didn't find the strength to cut loose with my Voice of Appropriately Righteous Indignation until about a month ago, when I finally stood up to Genghis and told him that at long last I was through getting fat for him; that I was going to lose weight or die trying. I told him he basically had three choices:

1) Get on the bus
2) Get out of the way of the bus
3) Get run the hell over by the bus

And I would start spending my paychecks on stuff that I prefer to eat, whether he likes it or not. I talked to my family practice doctor about the LAP-BAND and getting in with a nutritionist, and I've also started taking antidepressants (but that is another issue that I've been dealing with since I was a child, and solving that will only help with everything else). And I started walking everywhere again.

Oh gods, the walking. That was where the gravity of the situation was piledriven home to me. I couldn't even get to the mailbox at my apartment complex (which is roughly 1/4 mile away from my apartment) without feeling like I was going to fall over. Now the only trouble I have is getting back to the apartment--hills still kill my legs and back, but at least I can get there without feeling like my heart is going to explode from my chest by the time I'm halfway. Breaks and lunchtimes at work see me walking laps around my office building, both inside and (at lunch) out. Sodas, gone. Junk, gone. Nasty Kroger Chicken, gone. Stouffer's dinners, gone.

And by Yule I will have a Hammer tattooed on my collarbone to remind me that I can overcome my own messed-up orlog through this heroic effort.

Yuletide Wishes

A happy Yule to all who read this. May your ancestors watch over and guide you during the coming year, and may you receive blessings of health and prosperity.

Hail!

Life Imitating Art

http://www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/asiapcf/12/17/giant.rat.ap/index.html

The Giant Rat of Sumatra, it has been found. I cannot be the only one who was wickedly amused by this.

Hello, Constitution? Fuck off! Sincerely, Congress

This came to me via a friend of mine who found it on GovTrack:

http://www.govtrack.us/congress/bill.xpd?bill=hr110-847

H. Res. 847: Recognizing the importance of Christmas and the Christian faith

Full text of the bill is here.

How is this not a violation of the Establishment Clause? How is this not a slap in the face to every non-Christian living in this country—which was founded on religious pluralism and government non-involvement in religion?

Here is the text of my letter to my representative, who voted YEA on this resolution:

Rep. Miller;

As somebody who has voted for and supported you during your Congressional career, I am more than a little dismayed by your support of HR 847, passed on 6 December of this year.

The Founding Fathers of this country have made clear through their writings that no one religion should be endorsed or promoted over any other religion in this country. They made it clear through a Constitutional prohibition of the establishment or endorsement of any religion, be it Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Asatru, Wicca or Santeria.

Thomas Jefferson wrote in a letter to the Danbury Baptist Association of Connecticut "…religion is a matter which lies solely between Man & his God, that he owes account to none other for his faith or his worship, that the legitimate powers of government reach actions only, & not opinions…" (here is the link for your perusal: http://www.loc.gov/loc/lcib/9806/danpre.html) He wrote that while sitting in the White House as the 3^rd President of the United States.

Article 11 of the Treaty of Tripoli of 1796 clearly states "As the government of the United States of America is not in any sense founded on the Christian Religion,-as it has in itself no character of enmity against the laws, religion or tranquility of Musselmen,-and as the said States never have entered into any war or act of hostility against any Mehomitan nation, it is declared by the parties that no pretext arising from religious opinions shall ever produce an interruption of the harmony existing between the two countries." (again, here is a link: http://www.yale.edu/lawweb/avalon/diplomacy/barbary/bar1796t.htm#art11) Given comments that have been made to the troops about God being on "our side" in the Iraq War, I find this passage rather darkly ironic.

More recently, recently-retired Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor said in her opinion on "McCreary County vs. American Civil Liberties Union of Kentucky" that "When the government associates one set of religious beliefs with the state and identifies nonadherents as outsiders, it encroaches upon the individual's decision about whether and how to worship."

Religious freedom is what this nation is founded on. When one religion is favoured over another, whether via resolution expressing sentiment or via force of law, people who do not adhere to that belief system are made to feel insignificant or unwelcome. It's human nature. The wording of HR 847 differs markedly from HR 747 (recognizing Diwali, the festival of lights celebrated by Hindus and Sikhs the world over) and HR 635 (recognizing the Muslim holy month of Ramadan) in that it specifically promotes Christianity. Furthermore, the resolution's author, your honourable colleague Steve King of Iowa's 5^th District, has gone on record as saying that "the foundation of this nation and this culture is Christian", and that the resolution was intended to assert this status in the wake of "an assault on Christianity."

Rep. Miller, I do not assault Christianity when I wish somebody a Joyous Yule during the winter holiday season. I do not assault Christianity when I wear a Mjolnir pendant (one of many symbols of my faith, Asatru) or use the heathen origins of the days of the week. I do not assault Christianity when I procure a small tree for my living room so that I can decorate it with garland and lights as my ancestors did centuries ago. Yet I am feeling assaulted when people like your colleague from Iowa use language in a resolution that sends the message that non-Christians are somehow unwelcome in this country.

I do not appreciate being made to feel unwelcome or unnecessary because of my religious beliefs, Rep, Miller, and I am certain that the other non-Christian constituents in North Carolina's 4^th Congressional District feel the same way.

Sincerely,

AQ

I think that about sums it up, don't you?

Not Knowing What To Say

There are times when you don't know what to say or feel.

This is one of those times.

A friend of mine passed along to me that her sister died this morning after putting up a hell of a fight with cervical cancer. We all knew the end was coming, but still: what do you say at a time like this? "I'm sorry for your loss" doesn't cut it, it really doesn't.

I feel numb right now. Sad for my friend, but still numb. I also feel like an ass because I don't feel like I'm showing proper sadness because my friend is devastated. Sure, she had time to prepare, but she loved her sister and I know that this hits her like a punch in the gut.

Rest easy, Cary Anne. May your ancestors welcome you warmly.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Background: Husband is Mormon, his fellow congregants know I'm pagan--or at least some of them do. We have been receiving assistance from them the last month and a half since I had lost my job (and was on the hunt for another one).

Now that that is out of the way: Yesterday the president of the Elder's Quorum showed up at our door with a metric assload of food--I am not kidding. Cereal, canned goods of various kinds, juices, and so forth. It was a lot, and it was a holiday gift to us.

Now, I am not an ungrateful person--I fully recognize that without their help we more than likely would not have made it through the last month, and I really am grateful. But I'm also a wary person, and I know that a gift given requires a gift in return. I keep wondering when the other shoe will drop and requests for the return gift go from "tithe and attend Sacrament" (which I make sure he does anyway, as a matter of course) to "oh yeah, and your wife's gotta come too" and thence "When's your wife going to join the Church?"

Of course I'm wary. I'm always wary, especially because for a while after my husband and I got married (we were living in another state at the time), members of his Church kept badgering him to either get me to convert or to leave me for some nice Mormon girl, and treated me with no small amount of disdain. He was offered a free ride to Ricks College, with the clear (yet unspoken) proviso that he would be given that if he was the only one who moved out to Idaho. Even after he moved down here, somebody kept putting him on the singles list for his local ward even though I kept telling the person who'd call (to let him know about singles events) that I was his wife, that we'd been married for some years already, and would they please remove his name from the list?

It's been a rocky road between me and the LDS. When I accepted an invite from the Bishop to attend Thanksgiving at his house while my husband was out of town, I was quick to leave the room and go offer to help with the washing-up when the talk in the dining room turned to religion--because as the only non-Mormon in the house, it was only a matter of time before somebody said "So AQ, what's your religion?" Sure, I could have dropped the Creed of the North on them as my "testimony"--but that would have been very unwise, as I knew what would happen had I said something: all the "you need to leave her" crap would have started up again. Not from the Bishop (who knows I'm heathen), but definitely from some of the other members. So I took the advice of the Havamal, and kept my mouth shut.

And I'm still waiting for that damned shoe to drop.

Yuletide update

OK, so Yule isn't for another two weeks-ish. Deal.

Anyway: I no longer work at the Stop-n-Rob, for reasons that I will not go into in this public forum. I now have my weekends and evenings back, so I can once again have a life.

What this means is that I'm actively getting ready for Yule this year and planning to spend time with my fellow heathens, rather than spending time in a convenience store in a rough neighbourhood wondering if this will be the day I get plugged by some wannabe who's upset that I carded him for a dollar blunt.

Yesterday evening I was at the SuperTarget near where I live. I heard a couple of middle-school age kids talking, and one of them said "What does 'yuletide' mean? Like, you hear it all the time--but what's it mean?" I was going to explain it to them, but they left before I got up the bollocks to turn around and tell them about Yule and the pagan origins of Christmas trees, holly, mistletoe, and so forth. All those fun holiday traditions that the Christianists claim are under attack by us wicked pagans.

And speaking of holidays: this time of year is always rough for me, because I'm so used to spending it alone. Either I've had to work, or I've been by myself (because I was single or--after I got married--because the husband just sleeps all day). So it's always been very painful for me, especially when the alternative was always family drama.

This year, I'm trying to do different. Leave some porridge (well OK, some Malt-O-Meal) out for the wights, try to make some kind of gifts (read: baked goods and other comestibles) to give to local friends, try to clean the house (which is always hard when you have trashed joints and low energy)...I want to do something other than mope, knowhutimean?

And I'll have another craft update soon.

Update + (arts+crafts) = profit

Update: I no longer work at the Stop-n-Rob. Of course, I'm still effectively "cut off" from the local heathen community thanks to my having been gone so long. I'll attempt to make it to the local hof's monthly blot tomorrow, though--we'll see how that goes.

My "art project" has progressed to the "oh crap, how does somebody with no drawing skills whatsoever draw a design?" stage. I see the design in my mind's eye, but I can't draw fer crap to put it on paper.

The design? Oh, nothing really complicated or anything--a boar done in white, on a red background. The circular border will be black, with the Elder Futhark embroidered in gold (well, yellow) in it. Maybe some extra little touches on the corners and sides, I dunno.

Total dimensions: 3' x 3'

Really, it's not that hard. And not that big either, really. But damned if I can draw it!

The materiel:

Needles -- 3
Embroidery floss in a rainbow of colours
Red cotton jersey fabric -- 3/4 bolt (yes, I have that much, and I've had it for years)

So, here you see an example of one of my practice runs. This is an attempt to make a white Thurisaz (Duh AQ, that's not Thurisaz) Wunjo rune, filled in with yellow:



I apologize for the wonky white balance--I forgot I'd had the aperture open a bit wide.

And here is the cloth itself--the quality of the photo is crap, but I chalk that up to the camera.



But you can see, roughly, how thin the fabric is. Perhaps I need some kind of backing or a double-layer thing? I dunno.

Hail The All-Thumbs!

I've been woefully neglectful of this blog--must attempt to rectify that.

Recently, I came to the decision that I wanted to make something. This amuses my family greatly, because (to be quite honest) I am woefully incompetent when it comes to artsy-craftsy stuff.

But do I let it stop me? Of course not. Like any good heathen would, I decided to make a valiant attempt to craft something. For personal betterment, just to say I could do it, and because I wanted to find some way to honour the Aesir and Asynjur. So I settled on the one thing that I am least qualified to do:

I'm going to try embroidering an altar-cloth for my harrow. For somebody whose last attempt at embroidery was several disastrous (not to mention injurious...for me) attempts to do cross-stitch when I was 14, this is quite an ambitious undertaking. After all, a 4x4 altar cloth is much different from a simple little "WELCOME TO OUR HUMBLE HOME" sampler done from a kit.

The cloth isn't going to be anything really super-elaborate. No petit-point, no latter-day Bayeux Tapestry, nothing like that. Just a simple red jersey altar-cloth with Mjolnir stitched in black on a circular gold background, with the Elder Futhark embroidered in black around it on a white ring. And a silver border, because I like silver. A friend of mine jokingly suggested I work a little Stanley Cup in there somewhere, but that is a project for another time.

In preparation for the task, I have been attempting to embroider various runes (on pieces of the cloth that I'll be using for the big project) with satin-stitched backgrounds. They, of course, look like ass.

I'm well aware that this post is useless without pictures, but please bear with me--the computer that my digital camera hooks up to is currently on the blink, so I can't upload anything yet. I'll do my best to keep you updated on the progress of the work.

Please, friends--try to contain your giggles.

Prison Ministry Revisited

An argument is breaking out on a mailing list I read. One member who has "convict" in his screen name posted, asking about blots and other events in his part of the Southeast and saying "I have been away from my people for too long". The response was light, and I didn't bother responding to him at all because it was pretty clear to me that he was more than likely in the joint.

Day before yesterday, he posts the following:

hope all had a great blot and plenty of mead. hail the 14 words and
hail odin.

The response he got from another listmember was rather..."forceful". Simply put, he was told where to go and what to do with his "fourteen words" when he got there--a sentiment that I agree with, to be honest.

(For those who don't know: "The Fourteen Words" refer to the white supremacist slogan "We must secure the existence of our people and a future for White children." It's often shortened to 14W, and is sometimes paired with "88", which is shorthand for "Heil Hitler"--H being the 8th letter of the alphabet.)

This has sparked a great uproar, with several people defending the racist and saying that those of us who flamed him aren't being hospitable. One of those people is a member of a group that has a very active prison ministry--which readers of this blog know is something that I am dead-set against--so of course his comments didn't exactly win me over.

So I find myself forced to wonder: when, pray tell, did it suddenly become okay to welcome outlaws into our midst? Outlawry certainly does still exist, folks; the only difference between outlawry today and outlawry 1000 years ago is that today's outlaws are sent to prison rather than left to the less-than-tender mercies of whoever happens to come across them.

Were I in prison, would I want access to a godhi/gydhja and ritual items? Of course--but I certainly wouldn't expect them, and I'd know full well that as an outlaw, the gods wouldn't want anything to do with me. I know my ancestors certainly wouldn't! Prison ministry is a fool's errand, in my opinion. I don't want to be associated with outlaws and dirtbags, and the responsible thing for any heathen to do (in my opinion, of course) is to stand up and tell these luckless pieces of garbage "Sorry, but you're on your own until you have paid your debt to society."

Just because Hospitality is a virtue of our folk, that doesn't mean that we have to be hospitable to outlaws.

On Faith

I was chatting with a friend about the aforementioned video--which led to a conversation about faith and religiosity and what makes a "real" believer.

I made the point that a lot of Christians do speak out against charlatans like Benny Hinn, but nobody listens to them because it's apparently easier to laugh at the silly Christians as a whole than to say "not everyone is that way".

That should sound very familiar to us heathens, by the way--remember it the next time you see a Nazi with a valknut tattooed on his face plastered all over CNN.

Melly was telling me about how she went to a Catholic service when she was 12, and was creeped out by the ritualistic chanting and mass praying and so forth--it all smacked of brainwashing to her. I told her about how, when I was a born-again, I was quite neurotic because I was never able to give in to the mass hysteria--a whole church full of people would fall down shaking or speaking in strange tongues, and all I could do was stand there and wonder why I wasn't being "slain in the spirit". Did Yahweh forsake me?

The answer, of course, is no--I simply am one of the few people that is highly resistant to mass suggestion and hysteria. Were Benny Hinn to blow on me, I'd just stand there and tell him "Dude, Altoids--look into them."

But the whole thing gave me a neurosis. I used to kneel in my room at night and beg Jesus to save me, crying that I didn't want to go to Hell and begging for an answer about what I was doing wrong--the answer, of course, was that I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was simply immune to fakery. That, and Yahweh in all his three forms wasn't my god to begin with--so of course he wasn't going to talk to me. Sure, he'd listen--but the response was pretty much "my dear, I have all the sympathy in the world for you but you're really barking up the wrong tree."

One common thread throughout my spiritual life is that the trappings of religion never appealed to me overmuch. Pouring out an offering to one of the Aesir or Vanir (or to the spirits of the land or ancestors or what have you) has never been a super-formal thing to me. I'm just sharing a drink or dinner with them--which is what an offering is.

"Thor, I brewed this fine Imperial Stout, and I'd like you to have the first drink."

That's such a beautiful thing, an offering like that. Such an uncomplicated and wonderful thing...and something that I think a lot of people lose sight of. Ritual is nice, sure--it helps to focus the mind. But I think that some lose sight of the why when they get caught up in the what.

Hmm.

Getting back to "faith versus religiosity". To me, faith is life and life is faith. They're inseparable. I try to do the right thing, always. I try to live by the virtues that many heathens hold dear: industry, loyalty, honor, truth, hospitality, discipline, perseverance, courage, and self-reliance. Sure, I'm not perfect--but I fully and freely admit that. I don't pretend to be better than I am or try to be something that I'm not. I am who I am: somebody who's trying to live a life that her descendants (in this case, my nephew) will be proud to look back on and be inspired by.

And hopefully making a little luck for the little bugger doesn't hurt, either.

I don't need church for that. I don't need a hof or formal blots or anything for that--they have their place and their time, and I like being involved with them whenever I can, but I don't see them as requirements to be heathen.

I just wish more people would understand this.

OK, this is funny.

Before I post this:

Regardless of what one thinks of Christianity (or how broadly one wishes to paint her tarbrush over those who claim that belief system), this video is quite funny. Charlatans like Benny Hinn have been exposed repeatedly by other Christians who don't care for hucksterism and fakery by those who choose to abuse their faith to make a buck or advance a particular agenda.

Gee, guess heathens aren't the only one that don't care for fruits, nuts, and flakes.

Let The Bodies Hit The Floor

Meet the new boss, just the same as the old boss.

In the last few weeks, I've been pondering Forseti--or, if you're Frisian, Fosite.

Forseti, so the Eddas tell us, was the arbiter of the Gods. The other Gods could go before Him with their disputes, and he heard both sides and reached a decision that all sides agreed was fair. The Great Mediator, Stiller of Strife. He was the wisest and most eloquent of the Gods, and it's said by some that he was a god of truth just as much as he was concerned with justice--for without truth, one cannot have justice.

The truth, however, is rarely gentle or free from pain. The search for truth is something that I hold dear--whether it's scientific truth or historical truth or personal truth (to steal a quote from "Star Trek: The Next Generation"). Sometimes, I wonder if I don't wield the hard truth of what I see like a woodsman's axe, hacking through things willy-nilly in an attempt to get people to understand the truth that I see.

I'm far from eloquent, and not as wise as I wish I was--but I try to live an honest life.

And sometimes, truth and its brother honesty are a little hard for some to take.