Daughter of the Silver Horns

perzephone@yahoo.com — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 05:59:29 GMT

I just got a message on facebook that my friend Ann is in complete liver failure & her mom is seeking hospice care.

It's kind of funny. I don't want a drink right now.

There is seriously something fucking wrong with me. Ann is probably dying, and all I can think is, "Gee, now she won't have to worry about her student loans".

All Sewn Up!

perzephone@yahoo.com — Mon, 04 Jan 2010 23:42:30 GMT

Chelsie did not, in fact, eat a safety pin. She ate a fucking embroidery or sewing needle, complete w/thread in the eye.

Somehow, she managed to pass it from her stomach to her colon between yesterday & today, the vet gave her an enema, we walked her around for awhile & nature took its course.

Thank you all for the good wishes - it worked :)

Oh, yeah, as we were leaving Rob's mom house (she gave us a donation towards vet care expenses), driving up the road towards the highway, there were two ravens, one on each street sign at an intersection we passed. The first one gave us a good, long caw.

I like the desert.

Mysterious Ways

perzephone@yahoo.com — Mon, 04 Jan 2010 18:20:08 GMT

Federal Marshals Shot in Downtown Vegas

This shit went down right about the time I would have been getting to work. But I stayed home because of the dog. Most of the roads around where I work are closed off. I guess they're looking for/worried about another gunman.

Universe, if you wanted me to stay home today, you could have just given me a case of the 'fuck-its'.

We've got an appointment at the specialist hospital at 12:30pm - they've got endoscopic equipment. I'm just worried, with the amount of time that's passed (about 24 hrs) since she ate the pin that it's going to have moved into her small intestines & it's going to require invasive surgery. It's all wait-and-see right now.

The Joys of Pet Ownership

perzephone@yahoo.com — Mon, 04 Jan 2010 03:56:51 GMT

Just when we think we've got the house dog-proofed, the dog proves us wrong.

The dog got into my sewing stuff when we went to the grocery store & ate a safety pin. She also ate a purple gel pen and some of that iron-on hemming adhesive stuff.

Of all the freaking things to eat... we took her to an ER, the x-rays didn't reveal if the pin was open or closed. Tomorrow we've got to consult a specialist who can hopefully remove the pin endoscopically. Been trying to induce vomiting w/hydrogen peroxide, but it seems she's hp-vomiting proof. Usually, when she eats weird crap, she'll puke it up, so that's what we're hoping for.

A Softer World

perzephone@yahoo.com — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 22:29:32 GMT

I am overwhelmed by the awesome

Thanks, Y'all

perzephone@yahoo.com — Fri, 01 Jan 2010 03:05:40 GMT

Thank you all for the warm wishes, & thank you the mostest, Lisa, for the heart on my profile :D

Happy New Year!

The Good Doctor

perzephone@yahoo.com — Wed, 30 Dec 2009 04:25:07 GMT

Last night my back was bad. Cryingly bad. I actually went to bed before midnight, and I had the strangest dream.

The barking ghost was back, only he was fully manifested as a plague doctor, with dusty black overcoat, floppy-brimmed hat and the bird-beaked mask. He was poking me and prodding me with long, bony, pale fingers, which were not like a modern doctor's fingers because they were invitingly warm. Instead of making his usual barking/coughing noise, he was grumbling and muttering at me in a low, gravelly voice. At first, I was afraid of him, mainly because even in my dream I was in a dead sleep and he woke me up. I know it was a dream, though, because I sleep in the nude and in my dream I was wearing a long black gown - and my luxurious cotton sheets had been replaced with black silk. Now that I'm trying to recall the dream, I think I might have actually been in a fucking coffin because I couldn't really scootch away from the doctor.

He kept pushing and prodding at my ribs and side, and it hurt every time he hit the kidney area on my side. I wanted him to stop poking me, but I couldn't seem to push his hands away and I couldn't fully sit up. So I gave in and rolled onto my right side. He dug a warm, firm hand into my side and began rubbing my lower back & hips with the other. The one on my side hurt, and I was writhing, trying to get away from the pressure but he kept at it. I flopped all the way over on my stomach & tried to crawl out of whatever kind of confining box I was in, but he just grabbed the gown and kept working on my side and back. The more I struggled, the louder but gentler his grumbling got, as if he was at the same time trying to reassure me & trying to scold me.

Finally, he quit digging his knuckles into my guts, started rubbing my shoulders & pulled a blanket or covering of some kind up over me, patted me on the head & left.

It's the weirdest damned thing, though, because my back hasn't been nearly as bad today, and even the base of my shoulders, which is usually a huge knot, feels pretty relaxed. I don't know why the spirit of some medieval sawbones has attached itself to me. I don't know where it came from or why it's been visiting me. But I do appreciate its heavy-handed massage therapy :)

Ugh, Kill Me

perzephone@yahoo.com — Sun, 27 Dec 2009 22:53:56 GMT

I don't think it's the Lexapro knocking me out. I didn't take it last night, or this morning, and still got hit with the nap-stick. I am almost pretty sure it's a kidney infection. I feel flu-ey. Joints ache, back aches, tired, sluggish, groggy. Want to die.

However, after my two-hour nap today, I do feel more in-my-body, so I think the disjointedness might have been the Lex.

Crappity Crap Crap

perzephone@yahoo.com — Sat, 26 Dec 2009 16:47:40 GMT

My back still aches in my left kidney area. Yesterday, it was sort of a band across both kidneys, roping my poor twisted spine in with them, but today, it's dull burny ache centered over the left kidney. I am starting to worry about the possibilities of having a kidney infection. Of course, this crap had to happen over a holiday weekend, so I am loathe to go to a Quick-Care and sit around all day waiting for a doctor to take a urine sample & give me antibiotics. I'm going to call the urologist on Monday to let her know I passed a stone fragment, and let her know about the back pain - maybe she can call in an antibiotic.

That's the thing about developing scoliosis. My lower back always hurts. Always. I don't go any days at all without some form of pain down there, be it from a mild soreness to 'OMFG just cut me in half from the waist down!' Everything makes it worse, too - the period, having to poop, cold weather, humid weather, sitting all day at work, moving all day at work, half-sitting half-moving all day at work, walking, not walking, stretching, not stretching... so when there's something actually wrong with another body part down there, I can't tell if it's a new problem or just my back. If it was localized to that one portion of my spine, that would be one thing, but it radiates to my groin, across my sides, into my ass muscles, my tailbone, and sometimes, when it's really, really bad, if I poke at my back (or someone else pokes at my back - I like doggy-style, but the width of Rob's hands mean that sometimes his thumbs hit exactly the wrong place on either side of my spine), or bump into something with my back, it will make me vomit or take my legs completely out from under me.

Another complicating factor is that I've started taking 5mg of Lexapro to see if it'll help with the problems I'm having at work. One of the side-effects of Lexapro is lower back pain. I can't tell if it's working yet. I take it at night, but right around 2pm yesterday I felt like someone slipped me a mickey. Went & took a nap, and when I got up it seemed like it took me a long time to get back into my body. Not astrally, but as if the sleep chemicals were still floating around in my system for a few hours. Except for my back, which was wide-awake & all present. Yesterday was a very bad back day.

What that all means is that even if there was something horribly wrong with my kidneys, I wouldn't be able to isolate it as a kidney infection or kidney spasms. When I passed the stone piece the other night, I thought it was just back spasms - I even joked, "Gee, maybe I'm finally passing a stone! Ha ha!", and went and stood under the hottest water imaginable just so it would make me go numb. It wasn't until I felt the release of the back spasm, accompanied by a burning sensation in the front region of my pelvis & a need to pee that it hit me that, yeah, I was actually doing something productive instead of just writhing in useless back pain.

Dude, I Passed

perzephone@yahoo.com — Fri, 25 Dec 2009 03:17:15 GMT

This fragment of kidney stone is approx. 3mm long & 1mm thick. Here it is against a dime for perspective. My camera takes crappy close-ups.

Although this was not the most painful experience I ever had, the back spasm that signaled the passage of the stone was enough to make me nauseous. At least I know I can handle the pain when this happens again, because that's been a worry for me. To be perfectly honest, if somewhat disgusting, it felt like my lower left back was constipated & cramped out a small, hard, rocky piece of shit that gave me immediate and palpable relief.

I'd Like to Apologize

perzephone@yahoo.com — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 06:33:01 GMT

I can't help but feel that I am at least partially responsible for this wind storm we are having. I was pushing very hard the other day to prevent it from snowing, and I had the feeling that what I was doing was working, despite all the people wandering around going, "OMG, I hope it snows!!!"

I probably should have just let the weather do what it intended to do and not given it the incentive to take its wrath out on me this evening by waking all the goms up, among other really creepy shit.

Rob picked me up from work and took me to the grocery store. After the grocery store, we went home. I distinctively remember pushing the remote control to open the garage door. We then waited in the car in the garage for the garage door to close. We do this because we don't want to let Chelsie out of the car before the garage door closes. So we got out of the car, gathered up the groceries, and it wasn't until I was picking up the last bottle of water that I noticed a package from amazon.com on the garage floor. It was a fairly thick package, figure about 1 1/2" thick. I asked Rob if he had brought it in from the mail. He looked at the floor, took a minute to see what the hell I was yammering on about, and said, "No. Did you?" I'm like, "I haven't been home all day, when would I have brought that inside?" Even though I knew it was probably my Access 2007 for Dummies book, for some reason I didn't want to bend down & pick up the box. Rob picked it up & put it on the garbage can, where we both stood and stared at it. He finally said, "You better open it". I'm like, "I'm not gonna open that, you open that!"

It's the weirdest fucking shit I've ever had happen to me, and I've had some weird shit happen around me and to me. How in the fuck did the box get in our garage? All the doors were closed and locked, there were no signs of entry, the garage door was intact and didn't look as though it had been tampered with, and I even went outside to confirm that there was no way the package could have gotten in the garage & ended up where it was. Even if someone had managed to push the garage door away from the sides of the wall, in order to push the book completely inside the garage would have involved pushing it around a corner formed by the wall & the seam of the garage door. I could see someone wedging it there, but not successfully pushing it inside. The garage door is extremely heavy & can't be opened from the outside, not even a little bit (that knowledge freaks me out sometimes, so I try not to think about it too much - you can't manually open it from the inside, either).

The only plausible solutions we've arrived at involve the possibility that Rob forgot to close the garage door when he left to pick me up from work, or, an invisible UPS man from an invisible UPS truck slid the box under the door as we were coming home.

I was cleaning up the kitchen about 15 minutes ago, and someone knocked three times on the kitchen window, loudly and sharply. It was the sound of knuckles on glass. Of course, there's no one in the back yard. The dog heard it & went apeshit, I heard it. All I could think about was, "Oh Gods, she's back", thinking about whoever it was that knocked on the back door that one day. I didn't want to go out in the back yard, but of course, I've seen too many horror movies & I know the rules - me in my husband's flip-flops, my big ass coat, armed with a dog quivering behind my knees and a flashlight, went to inspect the back yard.

Nothing but the neighbor's palm tree and a bunch of trash blowing around.

Y'All Ready for This?

perzephone@yahoo.com — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 15:08:37 GMT

Sun God, Sun God, He's a real fun God, Sun God, Sun God, Ra Ra Ra!!!

Dies Natalis Solis Invictus!

Many blessings of health and prosperity on this most blessed day! Happy Yule! (Or Beltane, for you people on the other side)

All Done!

perzephone@yahoo.com — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 04:55:11 GMT

HOLY FUCKING MOTHER OF THE GODS, THIS SEMESTER IS FINALLY OOOOOOOOOOVERRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

One more to go, but from now til January 19, I aint gotta do shit-all on my weekends except sit at home & play WoW. (Aside from the usual chores, but who fucking cares?)

WOOOOOHOOOOOOO!!!

This is Relevunt to Mah Interestz

perzephone@yahoo.com — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 02:12:24 GMT

I love my Utne Reader, I really do. PopSci, PopMechanics & the Utne Reader are my holy trilogy.

Here's but a small part of why:

The Encyclopedia of Life

Writer's Block: Simply wonderful

perzephone@yahoo.com — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 07:02:37 GMT

It's often said that the simple things in life are the most precious. What small pleasures make you the happiest?

Submitted By nisie

View 928 Answers

Finding really nice pens in the laptop bags when the attorneys return the loaner laptops to the Help Desk. Scored one today, rollerball ftw!

A Candle for the Darkness

perzephone@yahoo.com — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 06:19:11 GMT

Just some things I love...

For a Rubbermaid bin:
I love my dog. I love all dogs, really, but I love Chelsie the most. When she passes on and another dog comes into my life, of course I will love that dog the most. I've loved all the dogs who've ever shared my life the most at the time they were in my life. I love that dogs are like that - they know you love them the most, they don't care that you loved their predecessor or their follower the most. I love that dogs live completely in the moment, every moment. They remember things, and they understand the future will arrive, but that does not stop them from living in and enjoying now. I have always loved dogs, even the one dog I encountered that was the terror of my world for two years. I loved him because he was such a bad-ass even though he only had three legs. I admired him for instilling terror into me & all my friends, and every person who had to ride a bicycle down that road.

For a suitcase:
I love beer. Not just for the alcohol content, but the whole concept of beer. The fact that it's been around since people, pretty much. It has such simple ingredients, but the combination and preparation of those ingredients can produce such an array of flavors and textures - everything from this crisp, light hefeweizen I'm trying to Guinness Stout. I love looking into the amber bottle and seeing the bubbles suspended at the top of the beer, almost like air bubbles trapped in lucite. It doesn't look liquid in the bottle. I love organic microbrews because there is always stuff in the bottom of the bottle. I love the names companies give beer - I'm currently drinking Pyramid's Haywire Hefeweizen. Mothership Wit. Monty Python's Holy GrAle. I love how breweries are experimenting with flavors, like coriander, apricot, raspberry... Fruity, earthy, nutty, caramel, coffee, oak.

For a laundry hamper:
I love that, even on nights like these after days like I've had, I can drink a beer or two without drinking all the beer. I love having enough of a sense of self to just breathe it out a little.

For the naked woman:
I love how sometimes, weirdly appropriate music can play on Pandora.

Hey, here is the story
Forget about the trouble in life
Don't you know, it's not easy
When you gotta walk upon that line

That's why - You need
That's why - This is what you need
I'll give you what you need

Don't you get sad and lonely
You need a change from
What you do all day
Ain't no sense in all your crying
Just pick it up and throw it into shape

Hey you, won't you listen
This is not the end of it all
Don't you see there is a rhythm
I'll take you where you
Really need to be

Speaking of which, I love Pandora radio. I love the training process the most. I'm currently training an 80s station, a classic rock station & a classic country station. Obviously, from the INXS, I'm training the 80s station.

For the burning man:
So this is what I'm going to make a point to do. Every night, when I come home from work, if I've seen too much... I'm going to come home and a light a candle in its honor. Because honestly, I could continue to list things that I love here for some time, and not run out.

One last thing. I really love the episode of Family Guy where Chris goes to get some orange juice or milk or something & gets sucked into the Aha video. That one was awesome. Now, whenever someone asks me, "Where were you?" (or I hear Take On Me, like just now) I put on my best Chris voice & exclaim, "I don't know!!!"

Words Are Not Enough

perzephone@yahoo.com — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 02:25:34 GMT

People seem to shrink after they're dead. They fit in the strangest of places. Like green Rubbermaid bins, and suit cases, and laundry hampers. I can't help but wonder how hard it is for the medical examiners to straighten them out after they've been extricated from their temporary homes. If they even can. I wonder if the MEs even bother to do the hard work of returning the bent limbs to reasonable positions, or if that gets passed on to some mortician somewhere.

Animal Cruelty

perzephone@yahoo.com — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 05:07:13 GMT

I don't know exactly how it started, but over the past year or so, snapping a towel at Chelsie's head has become a game. I think it may have started as me playing bull-fighter with her, waving the towel as she charged. But it degraded into me fending her off with said towel. Of course, this has consequences, one of which is that anytime you have a towel in your hand, she thinks it's an excuse to maul you.

I just learned of an even greater consequence. A few minutes ago, I was making a cup of tea & half-assedly flapping the towel at her, and I hung the towel on the fridge handle. So, out of the corner of my eye I see her slinking behind me to grab the towel off the door handle. I turned around & 'No!'ed her, & she stood there, in half-slink pose, looking at me like, "I wasn't doing nuffin..."

If she grabs the towel on the fridge door handle in just the right way - she'll open the fridge door. If that dog learns how to open the fridge door, next thing we know, she'll be sitting on the couch surfing internet beastie porn & drinking Rob's beer in the middle of the night.

We should have gotten a nice, dumb yellow lab.

The Laws of Supply and Demand

perzephone@yahoo.com — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 07:18:13 GMT

I would post this on fb, but there are people there that I try to avoid in WoW...

I just made 300g on a PvE server by selling eggs.

I cannot wait to wake up tomorrow morning & check my PvP AH mule's mailbox.

Egg money, egg money, I love me some egg money :D

Will Probably Expand More Later

perzephone@yahoo.com — Mon, 14 Dec 2009 04:36:44 GMT

Conflicts in my life:

The ceremonialist: rigid, disciplined, ascetic, controlling

The shamanistic: flexible, wild, indulgent, going with the flow

The spiritualist: somehow in between ceremonialist and shamanistic.

How do I tie these desperate impressions together and bring it to the outside world?

Once upon a time, many years ago, towards the end of my career as a ceremonial magic(k)ian, I summoned a spirit into the triangle outside my protective little circle. I had all the timing right, all the correspondences correct, the directions, the words; I had fasted, I was purified. In other words, I did what a ceremonialist does best and the ritual worked according to plan.

I had the most interesting conversation with this spirit.

We played a game of riddles and truth or dare. I asked the spirit at one point if the ritual truly compelled it to appear before me, or if it chose to come. It declined to answer, which made me believe at the time the spell truly compelled it, but it didn't want to tell me that because spirits are often embarrassed when summoned by teen-aged girls instead of powerful older magic(k)ians. I also asked the spirit, "If two people summoned you at the same time, do you appear to both?" It gave me a pat answer of "I am Legion". I tried to push it a little more, with questions about the nature of the universe, and I found myself at the short end of the intelligence stick. It's kind of strange to watch something like What the Bleep Do We Know and have a physics lesson taught by a minor spirit come back to haunt you.

My Life According to Farscape

perzephone@yahoo.com — Sat, 12 Dec 2009 04:23:23 GMT

How to do this meme: Using only EPISODE names from ONE TV SHOW, cleverly answer these questions. Try not to repeat an episode title. It's a lot harder than you think! Repost as "My life according to (show)".

Describe yourself: Mental as Anything

How do you feel: Losing Time

Describe where you currently live: Home on the Remains

If you could go anywhere where would you go: Back and Back and Back to the Future

Your favorite form of transportation: Wait for the Wheel

Your best friend is: A Clockwork Nebari

What's the weather like: Lava's a Many Splendored Thing

Favorite time of day: Bad Timing

If your life was a TV show, it would be called: That Ol' Black Magic

What is life to you: The Ugly Truth

Your fear: Fetal Attraction

What is the best advice you have to give: Beware of Dog

Thought for the Day: Thank God It's Friday... Again

How I would like to die: Eat Me

My soul's present condition: Meltdown

My motto: We're So Screwed

Tired

perzephone@yahoo.com — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 04:58:35 GMT

I'm whipped today. Just whipped. I waited around most of the morning to find out if I was being laid off or not. To my utter dismay, I found out not only am I not being laid off, but I am expected to justify every single minute of my day. I just don't think I want my job enough to do that. I mean, I need my job, and it would be nice to keep it long enough to get my hysterectomy... but this is going to get ridiculous.

I used to be a gore-whore. If it was sick, twisted, depraved and monstrous, chances are I've seen it. Suicides? No problem. Flaming martyrs? No problem. Obscure, graphic crime scene photos from the 20s? Torture? Animal experimentation? Zippocat? No problem.

One would think, with our department being the IT Help Desk, that we would not have much to do with the criminal cases that flow through the office at the rate of about 1600 per week. However, we have a great deal of exposure to the media behind the cases - surveillance videos, stupid people filming their own shenanigans, autopsy photos & video, crime scene photos and video, the criminal documents themselves. I watched a man with a gun hunt another man down in a grocery store. I've seen the autopsy of a small child that wasn't even recognizable as a human anymore, it was that badly beaten. The left overs of a home-made car bomb, or the occasional case of - well, suffice it to say, bad things happening to small people. Brutality inflicted on humans by humans is at my daily disposal, and at first I was titillated when I found the folders full of images of dead bodies, because I am somewhat of a necrophiliac. It just doesn't turn me on anymore. I thought all the years of gore sites like rotten.com, bangedup, ogrish & Stiles had hardened me to things like this. I thought I was immune.

I think it was seeing the crime scene photos of a lonely grave out in the middle of the desert. A woman's body, badly burnt, turned into a mummy, shrunken and unidentifiable, that did it to me. Someone had a CD full of crime scene photos & they couldn't get the CD-Rom to read it. I opened the disk, changed the view to thumbnails & the person I was assisting enlarged one of the photos in the top row, which just happened to be a close up of this woman. It was startling and unexpected, and every time I closed my eyes for the rest of the day, there she was in photo negative. She didn't continue to haunt me, but the setting did. There are a million places out here that look just like that grave site did - abandoned lots, construction sites, quarries, the vast empty wasteland of Nevada is full of sagebrush and windblown trash. There are so many places outside Nevada just like that, too, even in the most crowded cities are places where bodies can lay undisturbed and unnoticed. Within my beliefs, the shell we leave behind is just like that windblown trash - it's really of no use to anyone anymore. We slough it off like a cicada's husk when we die. To the living, though, that husk is the last vestige anyone will ever see of a loved one. The funerary rites are necessary to put ghosts to rest, necessary for the survivors to heal and move on. Every body forgotten and discarded in abandoned lots, quarries, dumpsters, the Great Big Empty, is a door that will never close.

I feel bruised and battered inside - every day I am exposed to more murders or assaults or kidnappings, and so much more... mankind's imagination when it comes to causing grief and harm seems infinite. I try to fill my off-time with playful things, captioned cats, comics, artwork, news articles that highlight the weirdly funny instead of the weirdly malicious. It's the things that creep out on the sidebars that nail me - like the pit bull yesterday or Monday, or the man who injected his wife with his own HIV-infected blood so she'd fuck him again - and someone trying to defend him because apparently enforced celibacy makes men do things like this & they should be excused for their actions. I think about some of the work I've been doing on myself regarding becoming more compassionate, meditations, protective and healing mantras I'm learning, and then another day at work makes me wonder why I'm trying to be more sympathetic to the human plight. We, as a species, are not all that worthy of compassion and sympathy - but I suppose, simply because of that, I should be all that more determined to open myself to those feelings. When I pray for one, I pray for all, and when I pray for all, I pray for myself.

Almost Forgot...

perzephone@yahoo.com — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 02:07:15 GMT

So.. I'm doing the Honesty Time!! Meme...

I WILL BE COMPLETELY HONEST FOR 24 HOURS... You can ask one question; any question, no matter how crazy, sinister, lewd or wrong it is. I will answer no matter what and you will have my FULL honesty; so don't ask if you don't want to know the answer.

Avoiding Psychic Fraud: A Consumer's Guide

perzephone@yahoo.com — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 21:44:38 GMT

Most people today know and understand how to avoid becoming victims of fraud when it comes to obtaining goods or services. For example, if a plumbing problem occurs in a home, and it is above and beyond the skills or know-how of the homeowner, they begin to shop for a plumber. They may contact friends and or family who live in the area. Maybe a friend or family-member might even know how to repair the problem. If friends and family do not know of a good plumber, the homeowner may then turn to the internet. There are numerous websites that offer reviews and ratings for service people and businesses. The homeowner jots down a few phone numbers, gets a few quotes, compares rates and things like hours of operation, free consultations and the cost of parts. In the end, they have a plumber who can fix the problem during hours that are convenient to the homeowner and at a reasonable price. Not too many people would pick up their local phone book, flip through the pages, pick the first plumber they see and hire him or her. However, when it comes to obtaining more intangible services, this is exactly what people seem to do.

If a person finds him or her self in a position where they would like to gain some spiritual advice or have a psychic consultation, all too often a lack of knowledge or a sense of embarrassment cause him or her to throw caution to the wind. Unless they belong to an open-minded family or circle of friends or acquaintances, the person who desires these types of services often finds him or her self in a position of taking risks with their money, time and well-being.

There are many testimonials on the internet regarding these types of circumstances. One of the most common scams involves a psychic or spiritual consultant who initiates contact with a customer by offering a free service – maybe a general horoscope interpretation or a sample psychic reading (such as Tarot, tea-leaf or aura reading); once the customer has had this tease, the ‘full’ service is then offered for a price. This in and of itself is not necessarily fraudulent. Many places offer free samples of their goods and services, and want the customer to pay for something afterwards. However, with the psychic scam, the buck does not stop at the full horoscope interpretation or the one-hour psychic reading. The psychic may find something troubling in the reading. Bad news is surely on its way. Maybe, horror of all horrors, the customer has been hexed or cursed. Fortunately, for the customer, their psychic has experience with these things and can allay the bad news or better yet, break the hex or remove the curse – for a fee, of course. The customer is frightened by the negative reading and the implications of a curse or hex being on him or her self, so they hand over more money. This can keep up for some time, because not only is the customer relieved at having the hex broken; now they are curious as to who is the hex-caster. Suddenly he or she has a host of unseen enemies, and the only thing standing between them and that unseen host is their friendly, helpful, costly psychic advisor.

If this customer had gone to see a medical doctor, and was given bad news, his or her first instinct would probably be to panic, but once they calmed down they would usually seek a second opinion. When it comes to psychic services, few people think to do this and instead invest all their trust in their new psychic advisor. It is the nature of a con artist to be able to gain the trust of their customers quickly and easily. The con artist knows how much concern to show, the right words to use to plant seeds of doubt and fear, and how to lure their clients into pouring more and more money onto non-existent problems. Advertisements for spiritual services often have large headlines stating claims such as “Find your lost love today!”, “Get all the answers – health, money, love and more!”, “Why isn’t your business a success?”, “Is he or she cheating on you? Find out now!” These words are geared towards anyone who feels insecure, unsuccessful, and lonely or as though bad luck follows him or her around constantly.

Not all psychic practitioners out there are frauds or con artists. There are genuine psychic readers, spiritual advisors and even professional spell crafters that make their services available to the public for a price. Finding a good psychic practitioner is just like finding any other professional service person, but the search does have some added difficulties because of the sheer number of potential con artists that have set up shop as spiritual advisors.

Word-of-mouth is usually the best way to get referred to any service-oriented business, and spiritual businesses are no different. Casually mentioning something like, “Have you ever gotten a Tarot reading?” to a friend or acquaintance may open a few doors without causing undue stress. Just as there are review and rating sites for more traditional professions, these same ratings can be found for psychic services as well. It is always best to seek independent business rating sites than to trust the testimonials on a business’s self-operated website – these testimonials could be loaded (or even be paid testimonials) by the business itself. A good resource is the Better Business Bureau’s list of accredited businesses. Checking with the local business licensing agency can help a consumer determine if a business is at least licensed, and some licensing agencies may even have a public complaint record available. If the psychic’s business is a brick-and-mortar storefront, asking nearby businesses if they’ve received any complaints about the psychic’s business practices might yield some results as well.

Many psychic practitioners bill themselves with titles like ‘Lord’ or ‘Lady’, ‘Fifth-Generation Priestess’, ‘Ascended’, ‘Enlightened’, etc. These titles are essentially meaningless unless the practitioner is an initiated member of a hierarchical religion such as Wicca, Vodou or Santeria or are ordained within a church. The average person shopping for a psychic service is not going to know that, so having a fancy title or an exotic name lends an air of authority to the psychic. For some it serves as a stage name, and they may even have different names or titles depending on what type of service they are offering. If the practitioner does claim to be a member of a hierarchical religion or official church, checking the validity of their titles is nearly impossible. If the person is saying they are a doctor or holder of degrees, they may be listed in the alumni of a college or university, or be a member of a professional organization.

A concern of anyone seeking psychic or spiritual advice is the information being relayed. One thing to be wary of is if a psychic practitioner asks for personal information before the first appointment. All they really need is a customer’s name and possibly a phone number or e-mail address to confirm an appointment. Casually asking for other details, such as where the customer is from, how old they are, what their family is like, or if they have children or pets, can give a con artist all they really need to convince a person that they are an above-average psychic. Many psychic scams involve leading questions. A leading question is a question that suggests an answer or contains the information the asker is seeking. It is usually not allowed in legal settings, and is highly suspect in psychic readings. In the same vein as a psychic asking for personal information when setting an appointment is one that is willing to come to the customer’s home for the initial reading. By inviting a stranger into one’s home, not only is there the potential for personal harm to occur, but a great deal of personal information can be gleaned from the home environment, even on someone’s first visit.

Most spiritual practitioners would be less-than-welcoming of having a second party along for the reading (unless the customer was willing to pay for two people), but when shopping for a psychic consultant, the customer should always ask if the psychic would mind having the reading recorded, possibly by a tape recorder or digital audio recorder, especially for the first reading. If the psychic is hesitant, the customer should have the psychic clarify why a recording device would not be allowable, and if it would still be okay to take notes. If the psychic reveals something potentially troublesome, the customer then has information they could take to a different practitioner and get a second opinion – just like visiting a doctor. It also gives the customer something to go by to see how accurate any of the psychic’s advice or information turns out to be. An honest psychic or spiritual practitioner should not be too reluctant to answer questions about their knowledge, experience and gifts. They should also not mind being tactfully tested in their area of expertise. For a psychic this might mean the customer would ask questions about their own past, something the psychic could not easily guess. For other services, the customer might have to do some research into their chosen professional’s field of expertise.

When faced with a situation beyond the mundane, anything from wanting to know what the future holds, to blessing a new home or business, to wanting to know about a past life, it is usually preferable to learn how to do it for oneself than it is to seek an outside agent. Sometimes, though, time and circumstances do not allow the average person to embark on a course of Occult Sciences 101. Even when working under the premise that all people have the potential to become psychic or spiritual practitioners, maybe someone’s chose religion forbids him or her from performing this type of activity, or maybe a person does not feel capable and talented enough to take care of a spiritual problem him or her self. In these cases, there is nothing wrong with wanting to hire someone who is experienced as a psychic or spell crafter. The customer should always go about carefully and thoroughly researching the person to whom he or she is about to hand money. Unlike other professions, the psychic and spiritual arts are not ones that have self-governing bodies or peer review boards – the only thing most customers have to go by is their own business savvy and common sense.

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© 2009 Janelle Feldes

Not So Better Living Through Modern Chemistry

perzephone@yahoo.com — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 06:01:18 GMT

I don't like this new pill. Ugh. Hate. Emotions. Hate that achey feeling in my chest. Hate them & want them to die, stabby stabby stabby.

Somewhere on the 'net, while shopping for a digital signature collection device (also know as those backlit electronic pads you sign on for your credit card purchases at fine retail establishments everywhere), in one of the site sidebars was a picture of a pit bull whose teeth were all exposed because its lips had been chewed off by other dogs, and whose nose was also missing. There I was in my little grey-walled cubicle of solitude and I started weeping. The other day we were in Best Buy, getting Rob's new computer & we were standing in the home theater room, and some incredibly intense and graphic movie about some older war or battle was on one of the tvs. There were guys coming into an infirmary, covered in burns from oil fires, covered in oil, bleeding, crying, dying, the infirmary was running out of morphine and supplies, so one of the nurses was going around marking the guys coming in as to who they could save, and who they would just give morphine to until they bled out. I had to get the Hel out of there because the waterworks started, and I started getting something akin to an anxiety attack.

Yes, it stopped the bleeding (fucking finally), I've already lost weight, my face is getting a little less masculine around the edges... but at the cost of my demeanor and grace under fire. These new pills also give me ferocious heartburn. That, and I am fucking freezing my ass off.