In the two decades (2001!) since I made Caterwauling my home, I’ve lived by only a few rules.
One, don’t blog in real time. Write about it when you’ve had some time to gain perspective.
Two, don’t feed the blogimals. If I don’t talk to you in real life, I won’t engage here.
Three, this is my house, and it’s an open house. Whether you’re laughing at or with me is up to you. If it’s “at,” then I ask you to reevaluate your life choices.
That said, I last stepped away from this space because I was so very over a malignant narcissist. And I last stepped away before that because of a paranoid narcissist. And recently, I’ve had not one but two MORE narcs looking for themselves in every blessed character I type. In two states!
To a narc, posting a song or a picture of a sunset or a steak will somehow trigger them into thinking you are firing a shot that must be returned with a spray of gunfire.
I am quite amused by it all. But I also get bored very easily because, Gemini.
My male Gemini twin (from many moons ago) used to say, “It’s pointless to play with an unarmed opponent.” I adapted it to say unworthy. Gotta be an original, even in this.
Either way, I remember playfully sparring with my Gem. It was exhilarating. Instead of feeling tired, we were stimulated by it all. Not in a “War of the Roses” way. Just, ready to light up a cigarette when it was done, and eager for Round 2.
In any event, as I watch the Russians monitor my social media along with those who wouldn’t rush for anyone or anything (and who cry foul and clutch their chest/pearls when they punch 20x and I punch back once), I realize it’s time to come back to the space where I’ve been paying rent.
I also realize that blowing the dust off the place will invite in some dark spirits.
But here’s the thing.
Since I’ve been gone, I’ve been developing my intuition. I’ve been communing with ancestral spirits. I’ve been learning white magic and casting spells and manifesting all kinds of cool shit. I have banishing spells and people to banish evil with.
My coven and I are powerful, powerful women who have recently remembered that we were witches. That’s the only explanation for how easily this is all coming to us.
And to be fair, I’ve done candle magic and protection spells for years. I just didn’t realize that the shit that popped into my head out of the blue was planted there generations ago.
In any event, if people are coming here to see themselves in my prose, maybe someday. Not today.
Right now, I’ve got cool shit to catch everyone else up on from the past few years. And once I get through all that, I won’t be so in my thoughts and feelings about the rest. If I even remember any of it.
But make no mistake, they are my feelings. My experiences. My story.
If you even think I’m not allowed to be online or have my own feelings or take on things, be my guest and don’t read them.
At the same time, I am under no obligation to receive yours. I’ve probably already read your tarot cards and know your truth, anyway.
By the fact that you are here, you are accepting the terms and conditions:
- I am the Goddess.
- You’re in my house, and it’s saged and smelling good.
- I can pray for you like I do for all the friends and strangers I do it for every single day. Or I can put a hex on your house.
Don’t try me on that one. I knock shit out of people’s hands with my mind when I’m mad. And I have plenty of witnesses to this creepy Carrie shit.
Just leave me alone to pray for rain in Australia. If you like, I’ll tell you how you can do it effectively, too.
You only get one life. Be still, listen to the universe, and earn the blessings it so desperately wants to give you.
So mote it be.