#// and the fear of rejection plays so strongly into her core nature that a connection at times is maddening

[usagimen]

            I constantly am haunted by the thought that sexualizing Sayuri is incredibly difficult. She’s an incredibly reserved, cut off, modest person from her own social upbringing that hindered on not discussing such topics openly. Sexuality is difficult for her but she’s openly been known to show an interest in both masc && femme individuals, one must equate themselves in mental fortitude or strength at her level or she will turn away. She also has a soft spot for genuinely good, kind, empathetic people, those that are unlovable or zealous as her, mournful souls, all of which she comes to adore. It’s a bit of a paradox to say she is modest too as she is prone to having moments of nudity where it’s just that, a physical corporeal form that means nothing, the body is a vessel for the soul in her eyes. She is also open about being a virgin as it’s not uncommon from the world she comes from, private affairs are typically just that, utterly private && something she doesn’t discuss too much unless one is her partner or friends with benefits. This was on my mind since she’s such a lovergirl, protag of a romantic novel, though at the same time she will die if you hold her hand.

[mira-shard]

Marina Willow Profile

I had to use this once I saw @hogwartsmysterystory AMAZING template!

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IDENTITY

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Name: Marina Madeline Willow 

Gender: Female

Age: 15 (In most of my works)

Birth Date: 2/2/1973

Species: Human

Blood Status: Half-Blood (Father is a pure-blood, the mother is a Half-blood)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Alignment: Chaotic neutral

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Nationality: British

Residence: Willow Manor

Myer Briggs Personality Type: ENTP

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THE MAGE

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1st Wand: Acacia wand, 12 inches, unicorn hair core

Acacia wood:

A very unusual wand wood, which is found creates tricky wands that often refuse to produce magic for any but their owner, and also withhold their best effects from all but those most gifted. This sensitivity renders them difficult to place, and Ollivanders keeps only a small stock for those witches or wizards of sufficient subtlety, for acacia is not suited to what is commonly known as ‘bangs-and-smells’ magic. When well-matched, an acacia wand matches any for power, though it is often underrated due to the peculiarity of its temperament.

Unicorn hair core:

Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard.

Minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may ‘die’ and need replacing.

2nd Wand: 11-and-a-quarte inches, ebony wood, Hippogriff and Fwooper feather

Ebony wood:

This jet-black wand wood has an impressive appearance and reputation, being highly suited to all manner of combative magic, and to Transfiguration. Ebony is happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves. Frequently non-conformist, highly individual or comfortable with the status of outsider, ebony wand owners have been found both among the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix and among the Death Eaters. In my experience the ebony wand’s perfect match is one who will hold fast to his or her beliefs, no matter what the external pressure, and will not be swayed lightly from their purpose.

Fwooper feather:

Fwooper feather wands are said to be a mark of ill omen for the wizards they bond to, as, like the birds they come from, they are rumored to slowly drive their wielder mad. Despite their poor reputation, they do well with Charms and Care of Magical Creatures. However, they have a near-inability to cast Quietus. They are commonly combined with another feather core, such as the phoenix for health or the hippogriff for stability.

Hippogriff feather:

Hippogriffs are noble animals with a reputation for not taking a slight. These wands require constant respect, and if the wielder does not give it, they can watch its formerly stable and versatile magic backfire on it. It is not the strongest core, but it is one of the most adaptable. These wands are most common amongst Gryffindors, but they are rare overall.

Animagus: Jaguar

Misc Magical Abilities: Legilimens

Boggart Form: A younger version of herself and her brother, clinging to each other in fear while a threathening shadow is towering above them. 

Boggart meaning: A simple moment that makes her remember all the times Marina and her brother spent together, unable to trust anything in their own home, their own parents included.

Riddikulus Form: The shadow turns out to be their mother, who casts spells that create butterflies and other pretty things, leaving the siblings in awe.

Amortentia, what she smells like: Sea salt and lavender.

Amortentia, what she smells: Butterbeer, a smoldering fire and cinnamon.

Patronus: Jaguar

Patronus Memory: Besting the ice vault with her friends, being one step closer to her reunion with her brother.

Mirror of Erised: Her brother and her playing at the cliff sides near the manor, while their mother watches over them with a smile. 

Specialized/Favourite Spells: Musicis Ludere (A spell that allows instruments to play whatever song the caster was thinking of without a musician) is her favourite spell in general. Her favourite combat spell is Bombarda.

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APPEARANCE

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Faceclaim: None.

Game Appearance: 

Voice claim: Morgan Berry

Height: 173 cm

Weight: 58 kg

Eye Colour: Greyish green

Hair Colour: Brown, dyed purple passed her shoulders.

Skin Tone: Pale

Scarring: Scar on her left cheek from the fight with the ice knight in her fifth year and a burn mark on her back from the dragon in the portrait vault.

Inventory: Pet food, lots of empty notebooks, stuffed kneazel, at least 1 sweater, a walkman, a beanie and reading books.

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ALLEGIANCES 

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Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Ilvermorny House: She would have been a Pukwudgie

Affiliations/Organizations: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of the Phoenix.

Professions: Cursebreaker at Gringotts, helper at the Willow home-away-from-home, her brother’s business.

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HOGWARTS INFORMATION

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Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy: Outstanding

Charms: Exceeds Expectations

DADA: Outstanding

Flying: Exceeds Expectations

Herbology: Dreadful

History of Magic: Acceptable

Potions: Exceeds Expectations

Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectations

Electives: 

Care of Magical creatures: Acceptable

Divination: Exceeds Expectations

Extra-Curricular: Slytherin beater and prefect.

Favourite Professors: Professor Kettleburn. She adores his passion for his subject and can see herself in his recklessness when it comes to dealing with said passions. He might be a tad crazy but she enjoys talking to him and can often get away with misbehaving in his class.

Least Favourite Professors: Professor Snape. Marina enjoys challenging authority figures and has a strong sense of personal justice that sometimes goes against Hogwarts rules which rubs Snape the wrong way. She has gained some respect for him when she learned he distrusts Rakepick as well. To quote her exact words, "Well, turns out Snape is less of Dumbledore's bootlicker than we thought."

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RELATIONSHIPS

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Brother: Acacius "Jacob" Willow.

Marina and Acacius have a very loving and protective relationship. Being born with a neglectant mother and an abusive father, the two learned to rely on each other at a very young age. When Acacius started studying at Hogwarts, he made sure to teach Marina everything he learned during the holidays and the summer.

Much like his younger sister, Acacius is not one to look away from injustice, having to watch his family suffer from his own father’s cruelty for so long. Thanks to the support of Duncan Ashe and Olivia Green, he learned how to stand up to his father and how to quietly rebel against other sorts of authority figures, something he passed onto Marina.

Acacius tends to say ‘fuck it,’ when someone talks shit about his family or muggleborns and just fight them the muggle way. He finds it a good way to get his aggression out but it got him into loads of trouble and a reputation as a delinquent at Hogwarts. It was one of the few things he didn’t pass onto his baby sister.

Father: Emeric Lorenzo Willow

Emeric is a faithful follower of Voldemort, his ambition of furthering his family legacy based on power instead of blood purity being the only thing more powerful.

He married Marina’s mother merely for the natural born skill of legilemncy that ran trough her family, hoping it would pass onto their childeren. As far as most of the wizarding world knows, this marriage nor the childeren it produced exists. Emeric has another family elsewhere to keep up his reputation as a powerful and clean man. 

He controlled his hidden family with fear and his connections, making a show of torturing aurors during Voldemort’s reign and forcing his childeren to watch. 

The abuse was never physhical but mental torture, as a punishment for Acaius and Marina for not having legillmens abilities as far as he knows.

Mother: Abigail Kowalski-Willow.

Abigail is a witch who was born and raised in America and transferred to Hogwarts after an experiment gone wrong and got her expelled from Ilvermorny. 

A naïve yet determinded soul who enjoyed using her legilemens abilities whenever possible, but her ambitions got her into huge financial debt after graduating from Hogwarts.

Enamored with Emeric’s affections and interested in his wealth, she agreed to marry him after a few months of flirting.

When Acacius hid his talent from Emeric, the wizard took his frustrations out on Abigail, torturing her with the cruciatus curse. By the time Marina was born, their mother had passed the brink of insanity. Neither of the kids truly got to know their mother and never learned they got their curiosity and determination from her.

Other Siblings: To be Revealed :3

Love Interest: 

Canon love interest: Jae Kim

The two of them had met during detention and connected by making fun of professor Snape. When the two gradually started hanging out more often they bonded further about their authority defying traits and humor.

The two had been flirting quite often, sometimes even kissing one another on the cheek or forehead, or cuddling in one of their common rooms, but they both played it off on them just joking around,afraid of rejection from the other.

It wasn’t until the Circle of Khanna was estabalished when Jae decided to act on his feelings, but Marina was sadly emotionally unavailable. However, once she worked trough her grief and finished the quest for the vaults, they began a relationship in their seventh year.

Friends with Benefits: Marina and Merula had an agreement that lasted from their sixth year until the first half of their seventh year. Eventually Merula broke things off cause she knew the relationship wouldn’t go anywhere and they parted ways. Marina rediscovered her feelings for Jae Kim a few months later.

MC love interests:

Molly darling ( @mollydarling-hphm ) :

Marina is ride or die for her girl, simple as that. You have a problem with Molly? Marina would like to know your location. They’re the equivelent of “Don’t mess with my badger or you’ll never see the light of day again.”

Best Friends: Rowan Khanna and Ben Copper.

Rival: Merula Snyde and Acacius Willow

-She never truly saw Merula as a rival, more as if they were two sides of the same coin

-Jacob made himself her rival the moment he refused to work together on finding the vaults

Enemy: Rakepick and R

Dormmates: Rowan Khanna, Merula Snyde, Liz Tuttle and Night Rhea ( @nightrhea-hphm )

Pets: Fritzgerald (Her kneazle) and Tiberius (her owl)

Closest Canon Friends: Merula, Rowan and Ben.

Closest MC Friends: Stephanie Alexeev, ( @hanihonii ) Helene Adler ( @heleneplays , Alice Beaumont ( @mizutoyama ), Luna Silvermore ( @lunasilvermore ), Kyril Vasiley ( @kyril-hphm ), Samantha O’Connell ( @samshogwarts ) Feen McKenzie ( @sam-winchester-is-my-bitch​ )

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BACKGROUND/HISTORY

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Born to Emeric and Abigail Willow, the younger sister of Acacius "Jacob."

A sadistic, death eater for a father and a mentally unstable legilimens for a mother. The first part of her life Marina always kept to Acacius and her mother, scared to leave the house and unable to befriend the kids of her father's associates. The few happy moments she had in her early childhood was whenever her father was working or at a meeting and her mother enchanted the music instruments to play her favourite lullaby as she and Acacius danced and chased each other around the ballroom.

The order of the Phoenix managed to capture Emeric Willow before Voldemort’s defeat at the Potter house. By then Acacius had already dissapeared, leaving Marina alone in an empty household. The few house elves that worked there took care of her as Abigail was taken into St. Mungo’s.

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PERSONALITY

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Positive traits: Curious, Determined, Ambitious, quick thinker, understanding and protective.

Negative traits: Cynical, distrusting, rebellious, impulsive, sarcastic, wants to do everything by herself.

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MISC

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-Marina was against going after the cursed vault at first but had a change of heart in her second year when she found a secret attic in the manor filled with Acacius’s stuff.

-She's so busy she often forgets to eat.

-She’s affectionate

[croxasw-blog]

Formal Assignment - Spiritual Autobiography

I’ve lived a religious life. I have come from blind faith to a sense of freedom as I’ve grown. In this life, my spirituality was thrown around with all of my conflicts and was constantly questioned, while never being truly defined. It was the base of my life, and I couldn’t imagine where I would be if I had never had religion.

I was born into Seventh-Day Adventism, with a zealous mother who pressed me to be a believer. In first grade, I joined the choir. I sang loudly, to the point where other members would approach me after service and comment on how they heard me the whole time. At seven years old, I got baptized. My best friend and I scheduled ours to be in the same service. I was cold and wet, and smiled tightly when congratulated. I memorized Bible verses perfectly, but didn’t have the courage to speak during Sabbath school. If I wasn’t asleep during the sermon, I was drawing in Bibles or hymnals. My mother would scold me down the halls when I ran with the other kids to play hide and seek. To clarify, on Sabbath we weren’t allowed to play at all. It was the day of rest. I napped during the sermon if I couldn’t draw or play with the other kids, whose parents seemed to not mind. During weekdays, I attended the school which was attached to the church. And so we prayed every morning. We prayed during lunch. We prayed after lunch. We prayed before dismissal. I lived my religion, but hardly ever questioned it. Being a “servant of god” meant a lot of memorization, a lot analogies. I believe this is the case for many kids who grew up like I did. You’re taught to live in monotony for your monotheistic god, and then what? What about everything else in my life?

Church was the only glue I had. Outside of my uniform routine, my childhood felt fairly difficult. Emotionally, I was quite hypersensitive and imaginative, but had a toxic life at home. Additionally, I had lived in the Philippines for the majority of my childhood, and lived a drastically different life than the one I would live later in the US. There was no cloaking of the poor, poverty was highly visible and treated as normal. Despite me having much more privilege with an American father, while my friends were poor, we all played together everyday. Thus, I developed the social skills and mentality that marked me as if I was apart of the poor class. Also, I was exposed to things considered inappropriate for children like violence, nudity, and regular conversation of such. With poverty came all things mentioned, and I thought they were universal. Coming to America at the age of twelve was a culture shock, especially when I lacked the maturity to understand how socioeconomic factors affected my relations with others. Naturally, I befriended the kids everyone else called “scummy,” when in reality they were just poor and had unstable upbringings like myself. I didn’t stay friends with them for long because I was placed in the “accelerated” group, separated from the regular section. The other accelerated students teased me often for associating with the “scumbags,” and I succumbed to the bullying and broke ties with my first friends.

Years of not fitting in continued and made me harden over the years, and by high school I hardly expressed myself or showed emotion. By getting good grades and doing clubs, I was able to ease this outcast trope, but still couldn’t form any real connections. I still went to church, but my religion was running thin for me. My mom and I grew tense with each other over the course of several hardships, of brief homelessness and her unsteady relationships. I decided to attend boarding school to escape, thanks to a woman in my church who was willing to sponsor me.

The boarding school was Seventh-Day Adventist of course, but living with other kids made the experience unreal; both in a good and bad way. I’ll go with the bad first. Much of the faculty identified with fundamentalist values of the religion, and this did not mix well with pubescent students who were from non-religious backgrounds, and with all of us being angsty in general. We lived under strict supervision and were demanded of rigorous work. Opposite genders were not allowed to touch in any form unless it was supervised. We were shamed if our grades were not up to par by having them posted for all to see at the end of each week, with weekend privileges revoked. We were required to do work-study unless we weren’t sponsored, which was often rare. Weekly community service was mandatory. On top of that, our learning system was by independent format. We chose research topics at the beginning, having to complete advising, experimentation, artifact research, and a final formal presentation in front of a panel by the end of the year, combined with our basic core classes. We were expected to be active in church as well, volunteering to lead services, to preach, sing, and so on and so forth. But our form of worship was strongly censored. We weren’t allowed to use any drum beats or rhythm in general. No speaking in tongues, no raising of the voice. All of this combined put immense pressure on the students, and we were often supreme melodramatic queens as a result. The fundamentalist values and pressure to perform in church pushed me to my breaking point. Often, faculty would openly show their disdain or approval for students based on how well they abided by their rules. More and more, I broke the rules on purpose as a form of rebellion and rejection of their beliefs.

Now here’s the good. I met lifelong friends from everywhere; from Myanmar to Bermuda, to Queens and Arizona. Their perspectives challenged my character, and slowly lifted my childlike, hardened veil into maturity. I actually met people who came from backgrounds of similar hardships or worse, and they were open to sharing their experiences. We learned to have each other’s back whenever the school had issues. I learned what a ‘snake in the grass’ was, dancehall music, how to have thick skin, and most importantly -- when spirituality was real. During my time there, my friends and I formed a gospel group as a form of slight rebellion towards faculty, since gospel music is all about emotion and rhythm. I sang gospel music for the first time, which was completely different from the stagnant hymns I had been singing my whole life. Our rehearsals were the only time we felt we were ever allowed to express ourselves under the rules. When we sang together, it was loud and purposeful. It was as if we were chanting for ourselves, and releasing all of the stress we were feeling. Ever since then, gospel music changed my relationship to music and to self-expression in public. Spirituality didn’t necessarily mean silent reverence. Instead it could be unashamedly crying, laughing, anything we felt without fear of the boxes we weren’t staying in. It was about going wherever the “spirit” took us.

Eventually I did get suspended, and afterwards I never returned to church. The internet became my best friend and I searched deeply for philosophies and experiences to rectify a new belief system. I know, this sounds simple and formulaic but trust me, I was troubled for a long time before finding what worked best for me. I consider myself an atheist now, but that doesn’t mean spirituality is no longer apart of my life. I am not an adversary of religion by any means. Don’t get me wrong, I do not think I can testify there is a god, but that doesn’t mean I’m right. Actually, I am a strong proponent for religion. Truly, I do believe everyone needs it to a certain extent. If I had not been born into my old religion, I don’t think I could’ve found my way to being as content and aware as I am today. I would’ve never had structure or the skill to draw analogies, or the confidence to try the things I did if I had never had faith in someone watching out for me. Like gospel music, the tools I was introduced to by my friends from boarding school served as support and encouragement. Religion exists because humans need it in one shape or another. Some are not born into this world with the love and guidance one needs initially, but thankfully life can give those to you when you reflect on your experiences.

I still live a religious life. Simply, I believe my old faith molded into a new form of being satisfied with the nature of life; of acknowledging the value of my circumstances and how they shape me.

[peggyobrennan]

Identity Crisis Summer 2017

The world has twisted since this picture taken at National Rainbow Gathering last year, and so have I.

A deep depression has taken hold, even though I’m back on Cymbalta for it. I start therapy tomorrow, so let’s hope there’s at least no harm...

I must open up, in hopes there are hopes.

I tried writing about it, gonna share.

I called it: Identity Crisis Summer 2017:

So much irony having an identity crisis because I've come Home and am living with Family (blood, not Chosen). But I individuated so very very strongly, and then some. Ran away age 14, came back at 15. Ran away age 26, came back age 30. Ran away last spring, came back now. Moved to the other side from family of Rock Creek Park (after months in the mountains) to raise my kids in a diverse community, against Dad’s wishes, and ...I dunno, was he right? After age 10 they had a less privileged upbringing, which turned profoundly underprivileged, and now the side effects of poverty haunt us.

More irony is that there are facts of my existence that are very unusual, yet I feel nothingness, emptiness, clear vast blank, which is sometimes euphoric but mostly terrifying.  I have rare traits, and I didn't fabricate them. Like I birthed twins, accidentally concieved but profoundly WANTED, and their dad was/is a sh*t. He did things that would be impossible in the age of social media, even tho I understood we had an open marriage. Use your imagination.

I have the drive that artists have, yet the unmotivated state of a depressive.

One of my beloved musical partners said a year ago, “Oh, are you just gonna do Walkabout?” and my answer was YES, sincerely, but I kept letting my non-shine-ity hold me back. And I got wrapped up in some dreamtime, sorta. I DID go many many miles and have lots of adventures and see scads of sights. Then NYC in April/May was kinda painful, cuz I THOUGHT I could do the job at the lovely Ganas Community, but they let me go and my poverty mentality grabbed their offer of  “Sure take the whole paycheck, but be gone if so” (it's more complicated) and I regret that, MAYBE.

Maybe not, cuz my daughter DID get deep strong benefits from Mom being Home. Until we clashed last week when I got profoundly triggered and alienated her. (Which would explain Strong Sadness) Prayers requested for HER healing, which'll overflow to US.

IS there such a thing as a Healer who loses her sh*t, gets profoundly triggered and alienates her beloveds? Why yes, every shaman I know personally (and there are many) does that. But I then doubt my healing abilities. The Wounded Healer is a real thing but your own healing should have actually happened! Mine has, but I guess I'm in relapse.

Yet, last Solstice, 3 weeks ago, the circle I was part of insisted on my priestessing some of our process, and I did it. And my daughter lovingly attended with me, and she knew the Spiritual Giant Women who were in the circle since her childhood. That is good, deeply good.

Then on our way out that beloved young woman said I was like “comic relief for the circle”, a jester's role that sometimes (frequently) works for me. But does that mean I was justified in reading about Pierrot's Columbine's and Harlequin's poly triad (my take) for HOURS the other day, learning way more than I can use about jesting, and dreaming more?!? I don't know. I sure do love learning and exploring. And dreamtime.

Also on our way out of Solstice ritual my daughter called her twin brother to describe our antics. The wondrousness of shamanic dancing. I THINK she was telling that, but I have Selection Bias, though I KNOW she was delightfully recalling.

He wasn't there because 1)it's a women's circle, not my choice originally 2)he insisted there is no such thing as spirituality, though I would love him to argue that I've also got THAT wrong.

He, my beloved son, called me last Saturday, after I spent Friday night in the hospital. He showed his philosophical bent and worked to reassure me that everything is ok, bless him (oops). He Stood Up for Mom. See, my siblings? This is an excellent young man. Period.

They'd been recommending surgery, which is always to be avoided. I have a complicated medical history that is disgusting and infuriating to hear. So I'll spare you, even though it matters for this. Most pertinent NOW is that the red streaks radiating from the (internal) wound are gone and the pain is too. And more surgery would undoubtedly cause more adhesions which started this whole thing, besides incompetence of medical professionals. See my performance piece entitled A Scar Is Born, with the happy face ending. It isn't online; hopefully someday. I waver between open book and discretion. Frustratedly. Of course I would benefit from a manager and an agent.

I am in limbo of sorts. I have deep friends, and also am “getting the word out”, and the fact is, I use social media a lot. If it isn't interactive, social media can be mentally harmful. Sez I and others.

Home? Hometown? My family of origin has rejected me harshly, mostly in those microagressive ways, but more. Attempting to have my children removed and put in foster care in 2006, and other outrageous treatment of my children and me. Cousins and extended family are quite decent and loving. One must mention the mental illness of my older sister, who fixated on me (and mine) or decades, wrangling other family against me. Though it began very young, that's over now.

Part of my family's rejection might come from the fact that I am not straight. I was born with the bisexuality. It's true that I wouldn't have had to act on it, even though I already had at age 7, and then how about this one: I truly am gender nonconforming. I was in a theatre play at at the age of 12 in which I played a man, so maybe that's to blame, but I was always been told to be more ladylike, and only with the recent freedoms granted have I not had massive angst about clothing. Instead I've been doing drag surreptitiously for over 3 decades. At an all girls camp, one must have “drag”, teehee. The girl who played the (cross dressed) lead was stunning and talented and I had a big crush. Didn't recognize it for what it was. Nowadays I would have been allowed to. A few weeks ago I was in line at a pharmacy and the person behind me didn't think I was moving fast enough, so they said “Ma'am? Uh, sir? Erm. There's a space in front of you.” Just a few days ago at the hospital my attending physician asked if I was sexually active, immediately following with “Male? Female? Both?” to which my easy answer was “Both”. Because she offered me that option and it is truth. Before our recent liberations, I would have had to quickly discern how to honestly answer, so as to not offend the doctor and stay pertinent to the case. MY gender and sexuality are twisted together, but please know that they are not the same thing. Always the activist, another problem of mine...

More reason to not feel nothingness: I'm a recovering alcoholic addict, and the stats are low for longterm recovery. Another rarity. I have become a sort of 12 Step Junkie, so I have that indoctrination of  “A day without ____ is a productive day”, but... it rings hollow too much, so YAY for all the other tools. Like not isolating and having a network of people, but ironically I am only speaking with one or two f2f. Depression is contagious; gods forbid I bring it on you. My latest are NarAnon but the Most Useful is Underearners Anonymous. Here's how I'm not gonna break the 11th tradition: I know people in those programs, and I did not say I was a member. This is the 1st time I've ever even come close. My intense fear of doing a wrong thing is probably at play here.

Furtherly ironic is me not playing music with others, or at all; more of the self-destruction of depression. Until yesterday, I hadn't picked up my guitar in 9 days, practically a CRIME for a string player. One benefit of being in my home city COULD BE the network of musical connections that I truly developed here. Just a few years ago there were several public events where when I showed up without my instrument, I got scolded. But I need Right Livelihood, and there are many factors that have made music not my livelihood.

Yet I still am having a massive identity crisis. And having the classic symptoms of depression, Very Low Motivation, confusion, sadness, indecision, vicious cycles of ill health due to lack of self care, because... what's the use. It is significant that I went for medical care the other day and fortunate that I did. I will never suicide; I could not do that to my kids.

I am researching grad school to get a master's in psychology and become addictions counselor, hopefully utilizing my BA in studio art, my musical core, my jesterly nature, and my initiation as shamanic healer. Attempting research while wasting time, cuz I aint worth the effort, and having fabulous sammiches.

Obviously I am also hyper-graphic, compulsive with many things, and am knowingly using the hour of Good Mood that follows Morning Coffee to write this. I'm also considering full time work for a friend's Green Company, secretarial stuff. I do hope they actually noticed how genuinely butch I am, and heard me when I said grad school is likely in my near future.

Anyway, idletime is for the birds. Though I'm tremendously grateful for the Soft Landing that my auntie is providing for me here in NW DC. I just wish I wasn't living alone, but a beloved cousin has invited me to her beautifully crowded house in Bethesda for grad school time, and we're talking.

This beautiful picture of Rainbow Gathering 2016 feels worlds away. In many ways, it is. But I myself took it, and I was there. Sincerely. Just because the Spirit Names I have been given didn't stick, and I look like a Failed Soccer Mom with the S.A.D. Diet to strangers (deformed belly with that old wound, & authentic Nighttime Binging Disorder, please don't shoot me), doesn't mean I don't have relevant vital depth and value.

Depression sucks. It killed many members of my family and it's not gonna take me.

I'm just changing, and seeking. I was a performance artist, I was an illustrator, painter, my writing has been published, I will always be a musician, even if I believe people who consider females incapable of that, eff that. I am a multimedia artist. I put on an excellent concert 10 days ago. I had a visual art exhibition 16 months ago. I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and goldangit I handled the weirdest election in US history in a coal town, worked their general store, then worked in another pretty-well-integrated-with-mainstream commune (my preferred lifestyle, attempting freeganism, seriously) in NYC and … I'm gonna figure out how to tell these tales. And integrate them with my life.